Years of Mistakes
by JaycenMackenzie
Summary: High school: a hormone-filled, drama-packed, stressful four years of life. Seven students in their last year of high school try to make the year their best. A son of a billionaire, two brothers who are like night and day, a couple of tough fighters, the perfect American boy, and an angry young man come together to survive their senior year.
1. Prologue

_Story rated T for mild swearing._

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.**

AAAAAAA

Waking up every morning wasn't easy. As his alarm clock began to blare, Tony groaned, and then slammed his hand down on it and it shut off. Rolling back over, he promptly fell back to sleep, his snores echoing through his room.

He had drunk too much the night before at his own party, even though he knew of the consequences of a hangover would come back as karma. He knew he should have stopped at his fifth beer, but he had been having too much fun.

As his alarm sounded again, Tony couldn't be bothered to turn it off, instead, covering his pounding head with his pillow. It seemed like he'd be late for school again.

Oh well.

AAAAAAA

Steve wasn't the one to dawdle in the morning. A quick rinse, a simple change of clothes, a comb of the hair, and he was ready for school. After a healthy breakfast of scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast and a glass of orange juice, he grabbed a fresh apple and be off to the bus stop. He got to school at least half-an-hour before the bell was supposed to ring so that he could go to the library to do some extra studying.

He was always the teacher's pet in every class. With outstanding grades, excellent manners, and a friendly personality, Steve was everybody's favourite person. Even the strict football coach had a soft side for him because Steve was the best quarterback the coach had seen for years.

Steve was just the ideal American Boy.

AAAAAAA

Scrambling to find his glasses, Bruce rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. His mom was already there, preparing a coffee for herself and a breakfast for Bruce. He thanked her and wolfed down his pancake. After taking a gulp of his chocolate milk, he pulled on his running shoes. Hurrying out the door, he had to jog to school with his ten pound backpack which was full of textbooks and notes.

When he got to school, he headed straight to the chemistry lab where he did experiments in the morning before school actually started. As usual, he was the only one in the lab. Replacing his glasses with a pair of safety goggles, Bruce began to get out his test tubes.

From outside of the lab, all anyone could hear were small explosions.

AAAAAAA

With his shoulder-length blonde hair worthy of its own hair brand, Thor was splayed out on his king-sized bed. His broad chest rose and fell as he breathed, ruffling his light mustache hairs. He slept so soundly after a night of texting girlfriend until three o'clock in the morning and drinking coffee way too late. His unfinished homework lay on his messy desk along with piles of other overdue assignments.

Being the linebacker and co-captain of his school's football team, he had many practices and games to attend, for which he figured he was too busy to do homework. Even though the coach threatened the boys on the team that if they were failing any of their subjects, they'd get suspended from the football team.

Thor wasn't worried though.

He'd get his little brother to help him.

AAAAAAA

At six a.m., just as the sun began to rise, Natasha was already up, kicking her punching bag in the basement. Every kick and every punch thrown met the bag with ferocity and preciseness. A few months ago, she'd broken her uncle's old punching bag. She had to pay for this one herself, so she was a bit less harsh on it.

Sweat dripped down her back and down her black camisole. Her breath came in measured pants as she beat down the bag. She realized she'd forgotten to tie up her long red hair, so she knew she'd have to take good shower afterwards. With one last punch, Natasha shouted, releasing all the frustrated feelings she had.

She knew she'd woken her uncle up, but she didn't care.

At least she wouldn't have to take her anger out on an innocent freshman again.

AAAAAAA

Clint moaned into his pillow as bright sunlight flooded into his room. His mom had come in to wake him, but he refused to get up before seven. He knew that it was a bad habit because he took forever to gel his hair, but he didn't really care. If he was late, he was late.

As his mother ordered him to get up, or else she wouldn't make him French toast (his favourite), Clint grudgingly sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. Blearily looking around his room, his eye caught his boy scout's badge which had deemed him best shooter. Smirking to himself, he got up and padded to the washroom, grabbing his hair gel from his shelf on the way.

He had to look presentable for the girl he very-much liked.

Natasha would never let him upright flirt with her though, or she would punch him in the stomach like she did before.

AAAAAAA

Sitting at his desk in his darkened room, Loki tapped his pen against his lip, trying to figure out his trigonometry homework. He knew that he couldn't go to his older brother, as he practically was at a grade six level in math. His parents were still fast asleep, and he didn't want to wake them. Tossing his pen onto his desk, Loki decided that he'd just go to school early and find someone to help him.

Smoothing his dark hair back, he leaned against the back of his chair and swiveled around in it like he did when he was younger. With his long legs splayed out, he forgot about his desk leg which he slammed his ankle against. Cursing, he rubbed his sore leg and got off the chair, kicking it for good measure. That caused his other foot to throb as well.

As clever as Loki truly was, he made a lot of bad and impetuous decisions.

Although, that was really the only flaw he could find in himself.


	2. Chapter 1

**Part I**

The principal of Marvel Public High School had seen many interesting students come and go. Whether they be known for their stupendous grades or for their extreme lack of self-discipline when it came to the rules, there would always be a few students that stood out to him. Principal Nick Fury had kept a watchful eye on those few special students.

As Monday rolled around again, Fury watched from his office window the students flood in through the front doors. It was the second week of school. Small, still nervous-looking freshmen hurried in, huddling with their friends and the laid-back seniors took their time walking into the school. He saw a few familiar faces such as Steven Rogers, captain of the football team and the top choice for valedictorian. Walking behind him was Bruce Banner, the best in the year in science and math, carrying an armload of books.

A few minutes later, a car rolled up and dropped off a large young man and his younger brother. Thor Odinson marched out onto the sidewalk with a big smile plastered on his face, pulling his unenthusiastic brother to his side. Loki Odinson, supposedly a grade eleven, but taking grade twelve courses, looked pale and sullen beside his blonde brother. Shrugging his brother's arm off, Loki took quick strides ahead of his brother and disappeared into the school.

Next, Clint Barton, leader of the school's archery team, arrived at school, shouting something to his brother as he was dropped off. Shaking his head with a smirk on his face, Clint nodded goodbye to his brother and continued up the pathway to the school. With his short hair gelled and dark sunglasses on his face, he looked like the typical bad boy, especially with his leather jacket.

All traces of the smugness faded the moment he spotted a certain redhead. Natasha Romanoff was chatting with her friend, Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, not yet seeing Clint approaching her. Then, Pepper nudged her, raising her eyebrows in the direction of Clint. Rolling her eyes, Natasha stayed with her back facing the boy, waiting until he came up to her.

After most of the students had gone inside the school, Fury swiveled his chair back around to face his wooden desk. The vice principal was standing on the other side of the desk.

"Mornin', Phil," Fury greeted, fixating his good eye on the man. His other eye was covered by an eye patch, which caused for much speculation amongst the students and teachers. He never told anyone of what had happened, not remembering much of it himself.

"Nick, there's going to be a PTA meeting at three o'clock."

Fury nodded. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Oh, and Howard Stark says that he'll fund for the new addition to the school." Coulson shook his head. "That man basically owns our school now."

"Well I'm glad to hear that one of the Starks is doing something worthwhile," Fury said. "His son doesn't seem to be doing a thing in any of his classes, but he still managed to get into advanced placement."

Coulson chuckled and raised his shoulders slightly. "That kid's certainly something."

AAAAAAA

A shiny, topless Ferrari with AC/DC blaring from the surround sound speakers rolled in front of the building. Students peered out from their classroom windows to see Tony Stark sitting in the driver's seat with a cup of coffee in his hand. It may have been half-an-hour since the start of school, but he sat as if he hadn't a care in the world –which he didn't.

Fury glanced out his office window and sighed. He rubbed his forehead as he dropped his pen in annoyance. That kid had some nerve. He had even gotten his Lamborghini towed last year, immediately paying to get it back. His father knew about all the trouble his son got into at school, but he stopped caring after the fifth suspension.

Not wanting to deal with Tony Stark, he nodded to Coulson who motioned that he was going to talk to Tony. From inside his office, he saw Coulson march up to Tony who was still lounging in his Ferrari. With a several words and admonishes, he got the billionaire's son to turn down the music. Finally, after ten minutes, Tony finished his coffee then followed Coulson into the school.

Just a few seconds later, there was a knock at his door, and there Tony was with Coulson by his side.

"Hey, Mr. Fury," Tony greeted nonchalantly, sitting down across from the principal. He put his feet up on the desk, and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

Fury stared, emotionless. "I know giving you a detention won't do anything."

Tony shrugged. "Unless it gets in the way of my after-school homework. In other words, it won't affect me at all."

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"Um, isn't that, like, your job?"

Trying not to show his exasperation, Fury clasped both hands together and rested his chin against them. He studied the young man's face seeing no worry whatsoever.

"Just get a late slip and go to class," Fury said finally.

"Alrighty then. See you soon, probably."

Tony strutted out of the room, putting his hands in his pockets and humming. Fury could hear the secretary, Miss Hill, scribble a late slip.

"I don't like to be handed things," he heard Tony say, as he was given his slip.

AAAAAAA

All the students already wanted summer vacation to return. Their classes consisted of overheads, speeches and boring documentaries. By grade twelve, the students were quite tired of the pattern. That was the reason why the students of SCN1A4 were thankful for any distraction.

The grade twelve, advanced-placement science class had Tony Stark to disrupt the teacher's monologue. He swaggered in, tossing the late slip on the Mr. Selvig's desk. He took an empty seat next to Bruce Banner, who rolled his eyes as Tony sat down.

Bruce never particularly liked Tony Stark because of the aura of arrogance and smugness he had. Tony was so sarcastic sometimes, that Bruce found it hard to tell when he was being serious. Having been lab partners the semester before, he found a way to tolerate Tony: ignore him. Tony was much like an attention-seeking toddler; pretend you can't hear him for a few minutes and he'll leave you alone.

On the other side of the room, another black-haired boy sat, jotting down notes in his notebook. Tony smirked and took a piece of paper from the floor and balled it up. Once the teacher turned around to write on the board, Tony threw the ball. It bounced off the boy's head and he looked up scowling. The boy saw Tony grinning innocently and glared at him.

Their whole rivalry began in their freshman year when Loki had gotten the grade nine science and math award. Tony, although he never admitted it, was obviously jealous, so took it out by tormenting Loki. Tony was significantly more popular than Loki. Having moved from Iceland when he was younger, he had a distinguishable accent compared to the Americans. For some reason, his blonde-haired brother had gotten many friends and even a girlfriend.

Perhaps it was because Loki was quite the prankster. He'd put itching powder in the football captain's shirt last year, stole a cheerleader's uniform and stashed it in the boys' washroom, and many more stunts that he hadn't been punished for. Everyone knew it was him, but they had no proof.

He also knew a lot of secrets about the students in the school. Being quiet and pale, he could blend in with his surroundings. Loki knew who were dating (although he couldn't care less), the drug dealers, and anyone else who had some sort of reputation. Using the secrets as a sort of leverage, he was able to get anyone who picked on him off his back.

Except Tony Stark. That bastard was impossible to faze.

One day, before they graduate, Loki was determined to pull an unforgettable prank on Tony.

AAAAAAA

First period combative sport class was brutal. A mile run to start off the class, weight-lifting training for half-an-hour, and then the actual lesson started. It was enough to make even Natasha Romanoff sweat a little. Since it was an open class, both female and male students could sign up.

She was the only girl there, but still scared most of the boys. They'd seen how she'd punched Clint and made him double over that day he'd flirted with her.

"Excellent job, Romanoff," the teacher praised. "Fifteen seconds off your last best. You're down to four minutes and thirty-six seconds now."

The guys just seconds behind her scowled, never being able to beat her. On the second day of school, the guys had made the mistake of teasing her about being a girl. They'd ended up on the ground on their backs after she'd flipped them over her shoulder.

They'd learned not to mess with the short redhead early on.

AAAAAAA

The cafeteria wasn't as rowdy and noisy as usual even without any teachers supervising them. Many students were eating outside, taking shade under the trees, and enjoying the nice, warm weather. In their usual spot under a big willow tree at the back of the school, Thor, Clint and Steve were lounging and eating their lunches.

Thor had this whole 'I eat whatever is in front of me' thing down pact, and was chowing down on his second double cheese burger. While Steve and Clint could easily match that, they wouldn't be able to stomach the three slices of deluxe pizza and two-litre bottle of Diet Coke lined up in front of their friend.

Just as Thor had stuffed the final bite of his burger into his mouth, a brunette had decided to pass by.

"Hey." Clint nudged Thor. "Isn't that Jade, or something?"

The blonde glanced at the girl. Quickly, he swallowed his food and took a swig of his Coke and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"It's Jane," Thor corrected. As she headed past their tree, he called out to her. She turned around, a bit startled. Then when she saw it was Thor, she smiled broadly.

"Hi, Thor," Jane greeted. She gestured to his mouth. "You got a little something there."

He hastily wiped the mustard off his chin and grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, Steve, Peggy told me to tell you to meet her at her locker in a few minutes."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Well, I have to go to the library. I'll see you in science, Thor. Be sure to save me a seat." She adjusted her bag strap and gave a small wave to the trio.

Thor was left staring after the small brunette with Coke just missing his mouth.

Clint snickered. "Damn, you got it good for her, Thor."

"I've seen the way you look at Natasha," Thor retorted, attempting to wring out his Coke-soaked t-shirt. "You look as if she cast a love spell on you, even _after_ she punched you."

Clint didn't answer, and instead, tossed a balled-up napkin at the blonde.

**.**


	3. Chapter 2

She couldn't take it anymore. When a hand hovered precariously close to her behind and proceeded to pinch it, she snapped. Grabbing the arm of her harasser, she swung the body around. Natasha proceeded to knee the guy in the groin, causing him to keel over. With a slap to his cheek, she spat at him.

"Don't touch me again, asshole."

There was a crowd of people around her by the time she whirled around. Then the group parted and she ended up face to face with the principal. The one-eyed Mr. Fury was standing with his hands on his hips staring down at Natasha.

"What's going on here?" Glancing at the students around them, they quickly dispersed. The guy who she'd kneed was leaning against the wall, clutching his groin.

"He," Natasha pointed to the guy, whose name she remembered was Kellan, "touched me inappropriately."

Kellan scowled. "It was an accident."

Fury pursed his lips. "Natasha, detention after-school on Friday. Kellan, if I see or hear of you doing anything that you're not supposed to be doing, I'll tell your mother." Fury smirked. "Remember the last time I called her?"

Apparently, Kellan did, and he slumped away, sending a dark look at Natasha. She returned it, adding her own glare.

"Why didn't he get a detention?" Natasha complained, despite how childish it sounded.

"Because he didn't just attack –or as I'm sure you call it –'self-defend'," Fury retorted, handing her a pink detention slip. With a curt nod, he walked away, his long coat swishing behind him. "Friday in room 231."

Natasha frowned. Second week of school and she already had a detention. Just her luck.

AAAAAAA

The girl who sat beside him was glancing over at his notebook. Steve covered it with his arm and looked expectantly up at her.

She smiled sheepishly. "You're good. At drawing, I mean."

"Uh, thank you."

There was a silence. Steve looked her over, seeing her long, blonde hair which reminded him of his mother. Her eyes, he noticed, were a piercing blue, much like his father's eyes. If Steve didn't know any better, he would've thought that the girl was related to him.

"I'm Beth, by the way," the girl said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I just moved from Tuscany."

"I'm Steve."

They were in study hall. It was called study hall, but no one actually did any studying there. Only one teacher was there to supervise, but she had her eyes closed and was slumped in a chair.

"How are you liking Marvel High School so far?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

Beth shrugged. "It's cool. To be honest, there are a lot of… interesting… students here. I mean, I swear I saw this guy swing across the lamp posts down the street."

There was a clearing of the throat and Steve turned behind him. Peggy Carter, a transfer student from England and his girlfriend, placed her hands on his shoulders. Her dark auburn hair was let loose down to her jaw line.

"Hi, Pegs," Steve greeted, swinging his legs around so that he was facing her.

She took his hand in hers. "Are you free tonight? We're having a barbeque." Then, as if just noticing Beth, Peggy said, "Who's this, Steve?"

"This is Beth. Beth, this is Peggy-"

"I'm his girlfriend."

They exchanged smiles, seeming to have nothing to say to each other. Steve thought that it was sort of strange, because he knew that Peggy was able to make conversation with anyone.

When the bell for fourth period rang, Steve packed his bag and was pulled to his feet by Peggy. He bid goodbye to Beth who gave him a small grin in return. He saw Peggy frown in his direction

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You still don't know a bloody thing about women."

AAAAAAA

Thor rubbed his temples as his math teacher explained the binomial theorem. Despite what a lot of students thought, he was always trying his hardest in his classes. He thought of going to extra-help, but it always interfered with his football practices. The only class he was doing alright in was English.

He couldn't solve for _x_, but he could write a ten-page essay and do well with no problems. Perhaps it was because his mother was an English professor. She made sure that him and Loki used proper grammar and spelling. Even when they were little, their mother didn't read the typical children's stories. It was mostly mythology books that were read as bedtime stories.

Another reason that English was his favourite class was because his brother was in his class. Although Loki did his best to ignore and avoid Thor, they would end up talking if they were paired together for any assignments.

Instead of English, Loki had ended up helping Thor with his math homework.

"You have to find the value of _ab_." Loki sighed for the umpteenth time. "See, the other values are solved, so you have to bring the _ab_ over…"

"That doesn't look like Shakespeare." Their teacher had her hands on her hips, glancing over the brothers' shoulders.

"Sorry, Ms. Nelson," Thor apologized, stowing his math in his backpack and taking out his copy of _Hamlet_.

Once the teacher migrated to another pair, Thor turned back to Loki who was immersed in the novel. Thor discreetly pulled his math homework back out and quickly scribbled down an answer. Unfortunately, Ms. Nelson saw him and marched over, her high heels clicking on the floor.

One minute later, Thor was left reading Hamlet with a pink detention slip tucked in his jeans pocket. Loki smirked at him over his book. Shaking his head in embarrassment, he thought about the date he'd have to cancel with Jane on Friday.

The only time he decides to do his homework, and he gets a detention.

AAAAAAA

Clint supposed that he was the worst in his art class. Since taking an arts course was necessary to graduate, Clint was forced to be there. He was with the grade nines, having no pre-requisites to take the grade twelve course.

His art teacher was nice, but for some reason, didn't like him. He was always given the evil eye when the class started getting rowdy, even if he wasn't the one talking. When he tried his hardest to shade properly, but didn't get it quite right, she'd scowl at him.

"Hey, Clint, can I borrow your eraser?" Barbara 'call-me-Bobbi' Morse was holding her hand out expectantly.

"Sure, here." Clint handed it to her.

That week, they were working on perspective drawings. Their assignment was to draw a street with buildings and other things, making sure everything was the right size. Clint found it so tedious that he ended up doodling other things instead.

Bobbi laughed from his side. "Is that Ms. Ball?" she asked, pointing to a little round figure that was getting pushed off of a cliff.

"Yeah," he said chuckling. "I'm the one behind her. Oh, and that's Mr. Fury there, with a parrot on his shoulder."

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Without looking, Clint already knew who it was. Ms. Ball had her lips pursed and arms crossed.

Shit.

"Is that what you are _supposed_ to be drawing, Clinton?" she demanded.

Clint shrugged. "It's perspective drawing, right?" Then before he could stop himself, he continued. "Well, this is what I'd like to see happen. So, this is from _my perspective_."

The period bell rung and Clint departed the classroom with a crumpled pink detention slip in his hand. Despite the detention, he was smirking, having significantly cheesed off his least favourite teacher.

AAAAAAA

Bruce Banner was a good kid. He knew it, all his classmates knew it, and so did the teachers and parents. But when he was around the snarky Tony Stark, it was hard to be patient. Bruce tried his best to keep calm and just ignore Tony's incessant speech, but if he got distracted from something important then he got angry.

Science class was the same as always. Bruce tried to get someone else to sit beside him before Tony, but it didn't work out. Tony plopped down in the same seat, loudly chomping on his gum.

"Hey, Brucie," Tony greeted. "You excited for this lesson?"

Bruce nodded absentmindedly, shuffling through his binder to get a new piece of paper. When Mr. Selvig wrote down the instructions for the class, Bruce copied them down and then set off to work. They had to work in partners, even though Bruce was content to work alone.

Too bad Tony didn't think the same thing.

"I'll get the 'boom' stuff, you get the test tubes and goggles," Tony said, fetching the ingredients they needed.

When they gathered everything, they began to mix the things they needed to. Writing down their observations after every mixture, they were on their second last step when Tony started to get a little restless.

"This is so boring," Tony complained, groaning. "We're just making things change colour and bubble a little bit. Why can't we blow things up? There are a few things here that we can mix together to cause, like, a mini bomb."

Bruce sighed, continuing to measure the glycerol. He was jostled by Tony who had leaned across from him to grab his water bottle. Some glycerol ended up spilling onto the ground. Tony quickly turned around and grabbed a bottle of something from the cupboard behind them. As if Bruce knew what was going to happen next, he grabbed Tony's wrist before he could add in any potassium permanganate.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bruce hissed, trying to pry the flask from Tony's hand.

"I'm having some fun, that's all," Tony said, tugging his hand out of Bruce's weak grip. "Stand back and watch the Master of Flames go at it."

"No, don't!" Bruce still had a hand on the flask, while Tony was pulling it back. It was tug-of-war between the two, until the flask slipped and the potassium permanganate spilled into the glycerol on the ground and in the bowl.

They stood watching the mixture smoke, until it burst into a medium-sized flame. Mr. Selvig noticed, and immediately marched over to the two boys. By then, the flame had died down a bit, but not before it set Bruce's pant leg on fire. He quickly batted it down, but it had already burnt through.

"What in Sam Hill is going on here?" Mr. Selvig looked wide-eyed at the boys.

"Tony tried-"

Bruce was interrupted by Tony. "We were just having fun, Mr. Selvig. I mean, no one got hurt, right? It was just a little fire."

"My damn pants are burnt."

Mr. Selvig looked crossly at the Tony and Bruce. After making them clean up the mess, he sent them down to the office. Bruce knew that arguing wouldn't do anything, even if it wasn't his fault.

On the way to the office, Bruce had much to say to Tony.

"If you're the Master of Flames, you would know that you have to add glycerol _to _the sodium permanganate, not the other way around. Also, you're a dumbass if you thought that Mr. Selvig would be alright with that. Oh, and you owe me a pair of pants, too…"

Bruce rambled on, his words getting more heated as he went on.

Tony sighed. If they –and they probably will –get a detention, it would be a long hour spent with an angry nerd.

.


	4. Chapter 3

Time seemed to go by ever-so-slowly until the bell rang. When it did, all of the students rushed out of their classrooms, eager to go home after a long day. Though, there were five students who took their time, packing their bags and dropping by their lockers. None of them were particularly hurrying to go down to detention.

Bruce trudged from his math class, avoiding eye contact with anyone, as if they would see the shame in his eyes from getting in trouble. He wasn't used to getting reprimanded for anything because he could follow instructions well and never disobeyed the teacher. Ever since the obnoxious Tony Stark began to take interest (in copying off of Bruce, that is), he'd gotten many more irritated stares from people around him.

He was usually a ghost around school, known only for beating Tony in all the math and science awards. Otherwise, he was just another nerd – a wallflower, almost. Bruce didn't mind. He had no time for social activities because of his homework, library excursions, and science experiments at home.

Speaking about home, his father was drinking more than ever. Bruce was easily intimidated by his father, who took to threatening and abusing him, but Bruce never told anyone. The scars on his body would forever remain a secret. He knew that no one other than his mom cared, and was afraid that one day, his father was going to go over the edge and really hurt her.

Sometimes, Bruce thought that he could stand up to his father, but pushed those thoughts down. He could barely handle school bullies.

What could Bruce do other than stand down?

AAAAAAA

A fiery redhead stomped down the hallway, her bag over one shoulder. It swung around as she moved, threatening to hit anyone if they got too close. She was fuming at the fact that she was stuck with a detention, when Kellan was the one who started it all.

In her combative sport class, she'd taken down five guys in a matter of seconds. Her teacher was impressed, albeit a bit scared. The other guys immediately stood down as one of the football team's linebackers was flung to the ground within fifteen seconds. Natasha knew she'd gotten slightly out-of-hand, but it was worth it when none of the guys tried to joke around her.

Her parents would have been proud of her. When she was younger, as far back as she could remember, she'd recalled her mother telling her to stand up for herself. Her parents both had thick Russian accents, which was what she'd hear every time she thought of something they'd said to her.

Natasha missed her parents a lot, but twelve years after their deaths, the sorrow had dulled to an occassional twinge of sadness. She had her uncle, and she had friends who were there for her. Though she would like her parents back, she knew that it was impossible. She'd learned to live with that since she was young. Growing a thick skin after almost a year of crying every night, Natasha had used the grief to fuel her determination in everything. That was why she strived to be the best.

It was for her parents.

AAAAAAA

Clint and Thor headed down to detention after fooling around by their lockers. Thor had met Jane there and had begun a passionate make-out session before a teacher had marched down the hall and broke them apart. Clint and a couple of his friends from the archery team were standing a few feet down, snickering as they saw the couple being reprimanded.

He'd been in detentions before, so Clint had started to just go along with them. He tried to skip one, but that had resulted in three extra detentions. Thor was having his second detention, the first having been for calling some girl a 'cruel, cold-hearted, ugly _jotunn_'. Although the teacher had no idea what it meant, he'd gotten the gist that it was an insult.

By the time they got down to the detention room, they were five minutes late. The room was lacking a teacher, though, so they weren't scolded. Only two other students were in there, both were familiar faces. Clint quickly strutted to the seat next to the redhead, Natasha Romanoff, and Thor took the seat beside Clint.

Natasha pointedly ignored him until Clint said, "What landed you here?"

"I kicked someone's ass for touching my ass."

Clint smirked. "Nice."

"Not really."

There was an awkward silence which was filled by Thor's loud breathing. Apparently, the big guy was tired, and had his head in his arms. On the other side of the room, Bruce Banner was fiddling with his glasses, rubbing the lenses with the edge of his shirt more than necessary. As the clock ticked by, still no teacher appeared.

It'd been more than ten minutes until someone slammed the door open. In came Tony Stark with his sunglasses on an iced tea in hand. He'd already ditched his school books (or most-likely didn't even bring them to school with him), and was sipping casually on his drink.

"Wassup, fellow detentionees?" Tony said, striding into the room.

Bruce glared at him and Tony made a face and despite the warning look, he went over and put an arm around Bruce.

"Oh, come on, detention's not _that_ bad." Tony gave his lab partner a smile, which wasn't returned.

Natasha sighed. "Just sit down, Tony. You're going to give us all a headache if you don't shut that big mouth of yours."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Touchy, touchy," he muttered, but he took a seat anyway, right beside a disgruntled Bruce.

At that moment, the door reopened, and in came a tall, familiar blonde.

"Whoa, Captain Perfect got detention too?" Tony did a double take as Steve Rogers walked in.

"Actually, I'm here to supervise you guys," Steve replied in all seriousness.

A minute later, Tony and Clint burst out into laughter, awakening Thor from his sleep. Thor sat up straight, noticing Steve at the front of the room.

"What are you doing here?" Thor asked.

"Vice principal Coulson offered me a few extra community hours to watch over after-school detentions," Steve explained, taking a seat at the teacher's chair at the front of the room. "I mean, I already have all my hours finished, but a few more couldn't hurt."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Coulson loves you, Steve. It's like you're his hero or something."

"Next thing you know, he's asking for you to sign his yearbook picture of you," Tony joked.

The boys burst out in laughter, even Bruce and Natasha cracked a smile. Steve felt the corner of his mouth twitch up.

He was used to that kind of teasing. It wasn't mean, per se, but sometimes it got onto his nerves. Steve only tried really hard in school, and always strived to be the best because of his father. His alcoholic father passed away when he was young, so Steve didn't remember much about him. Steve only knew that he'd strive to be a better man than his father had ever been. His mom worked overnight shifts so that she could pay off their taxes.

As soon as Steve was old enough to get a job, he leaped a chance to help his mom out. He didn't particularly like his job, but it got enough money to pay for the food every week. Steve knew it wasn't much, but his mother was grateful for even a little support.

That was exactly the opposite of what the person in front of him was – morally, at least.

Tony was sitting on a desk, his legs dangling slightly like a little kid. He was sipping on an iced tea, looking curiously at Steve.

"You look sad," Tony commented.

"What's there to be happy about? I'm babysitting you kids, aren't I?" Steve retorted, feeling a bit of tension release from his shoulders as he said it.

"Captain Perfect just made a joke. Bruce "Angry Bird" Banner is in detention." Tony shook his head. "Jeez, I'm having one hell of an afternoon."

AAAAAAA

The next forty minutes passed fairly fast. All five of the students in detention hadn't gotten into any fights, except an occasional groan to tell Tony to stop talking. Steve had been content to just talk to his classmates, even tolerating Tony's jokes.

Natasha and Clint had actually had a civilized conversation without the redhead punching Clint. It was the first time that Clint had openly flirted with her and she hadn't taken it offensively. He considered that a step up.

Thor had fallen asleep, with Tony ready with his permanent marker. As soon as the big blonde had started snoring, Tony drew a mustache and many inappropriate pictures on his face. Thankfully there weren't any mirrors in the room, or else Thor wouldn't be very pleased. Steve hadn't said anything, knowing that Tony wouldn't listen to him if he told him to stop.

All in all, the six of them had realized that they got along fairly well. Tony was an exception, because he annoyed people on purpose and knew that none of them would get used to him any time soon. Bruce was quiet, not engaged in a conversation for longer than five minutes. He had been too engrossed in his book, blocking out all of the voices.

"Hey, guys," Tony said, capping the lid of his Sharpie. "I think we should do something."

"It would help if you expanded on that thought," Clint said.

Tony sighed. "Fine, fine. So here's the thing: we're just six senior-year students who don't really give a shit about this school." When Steve looked like he was about to protest, Tony shushed him. "Okay, Captain Perfect, except for you. But other than that, I think that we should do something… memorable this year."

"By 'memorable', you mean 'destructive'?" Bruce finally spoke up. He closed his book. "I don't want to get into another detention, Tony. I'm out."

"Oh, come on. You haven't even heard me out." Tony held his hands out, holding his finger out like a photo. "Picture this: as soon as the snow comes, we build an ice barricade in front of the front doors. Ooh! Or maybe we could put, like, a thousand balloons all over the main office." Tony's voice continued to rise, getting more excited as he spouted out more ideas.

Finally, Natasha had had enough. She went over, took a tissue and stuffed it into Tony's open mouth.

"Pfffft," Tony sputtered, spitting the tissue out. "That," he pointed to Natasha, "was rude."

"Guys, hold on a second," Steve called out. "As your supervisor, I think it's time for me to tell you to calm down." He looked sternly to Tony. "I really don't approve of your plans for your pranks or whatever. I want to leave this school _without _a criminal record."

Tony shrugged. "Fine. Suit yourself." Glancing at the clock, he pushed himself off the desk he was sitting on. "It's already four o'clock. I'm going to go. Anyone who wants in with the senior-year fun, just call me. I'm sure everyone knows my number. Adios, amigos."

The door slammed shut.

Thor's head finally came up from his arms and his head swiveled around. When he noticed everyone else looking at him, looking greatly amused, he shrugged and pulled out a protein bar from his backpack. Stuffing a bite into his mouth, he heard Clint burst out into laughter.

"Hey, Thor," Clint called, grinning widely. "You have a little something on your face. Like a Sharpie dick or three."

.


	5. Chapter 4

Loki wasn't sure whether or not to laugh when his brother came into the kitchen. Thor sauntered into the room, grabbing an apple from the counter and flung his jacket onto a chair. Sitting on a stool at the island, Thor munched on the fruit, completely oblivious to Loki's staring.

"What the _hell _is on your face?" Loki asked, finishing up his chocolate milk.

Thor scowled and his brother turned the toaster his way so he could see his reflection. He tried to rub the permanent marker drawings off his face in vain.

"Does the detention room double as a tattoo parlour?" Loki smirked. "Let me guess, it was the infamous Tony Stark."

The blonde shrugged, still scrubbing his face with a napkin. "I was asleep."

Loki shook his head. "Haven't you been in school long enough? You should know by now, that if you go unconscious during class, there is a high risk of being violated."

"I never expected to be used as a whiteboard," Thor defended, tossing the useless tissue into the garbage. The drawings were still on his face, if only the tiniest bit smudged.

Then their mom entered the kitchen, holding bags of groceries. She was preoccupied and did not notice either of her sons in the room. Loki cleared his throat softly and she jumped, spilling a bag of oranges.

"Oh, my," Frigga said, holding a hand to her chest. "I didn't see you two there. Thor," she raised her eyebrows towards her older son, "why in the world do you have… things on your face?"

Loki chuckled and left as his brother explained what had happened. When he got to his room, he shut the door behind him and flung himself onto his bed. His curtains were still shut tightly, despite it being a sunny day. The walls were painted a dark green, which went well with his black furniture. There wasn't much else to say that it was Loki's room, with no personal pictures or even posters on the walls. Only his golden awards from school were on the shelves, shining whenever there was light.

His mother had initially protested against making the room so dark, but Loki had argued back, saying that it was _his _room. It wasn't like his mother visited his room very often with his door always closed. Thor rarely came in his room, for Loki would kick him out immediately.

That was what Loki noticed (but didn't mind) about himself: he was very introverted. It wasn't like he had nothing to say, and he wasn't shy either, but he didn't feel it necessary for everyone to know his opinions. Thinking back, he realized that there was not one single friend he'd made who knew when his birthday was. He almost forgot it himself, as he never enjoyed the gifts given on that day, and they would be stowed away in his closet.

Unlike his brother who made friends as easily as Loki did not. He supposed that Thor had gotten his traits mostly from his mother, although his impertinence was most definitely from their father. Loki wasn't quite like either of his parents. His mother was the sweetest woman that Loki knew, and she also had a tongue of silver; she could bargain easily and always knew what to say.

Loki was somewhat like that, in terms of getting what he wanted. He usually had the idea of what to say in his head, but usually what came out of his mouth was the exact opposite. Most of the time, he had an insult in his mind, and what he said was harsher than he expected it to sound. He never apologized, though.

Having spent so much time by himself, Loki had discovered much about his own personality. Expanding on that, he also learned how to read other people, especially if they were lying. He, being an experience liar himself, had found the little things that people did when they lied. Whether it's the twitch of the nose, or a flick of the hair, he'd see it.

Also, he was quite the devious prankster. He took pleasure in seeing people get riled up when he pulled a prank on them. It was even more fun since no one could ever prove it was him. The teachers suspected something, but they had no visual proof of Loki doing anything wrong.

The students around him and in his classes thought he was really weird. Loki knew that well, but didn't care, not giving a second thought about any of his classmates anyway. Thor had encouraged him to make friends, and to 'stop being such a withdrawn person'. Loki had tried to do it for a week, but managed to make three girls burst into offended tears, get punched by two guys, and was kicked in the groin by the one and only Natasha Romanoff.

That was when he decided that he enjoyed being alone. And that he hated people.

AAAAAAA

As he was shoved into the doorway, Clint scowled. His brother, Barney, had pushed ahead of him and into the house. Rubbing his arm where it had hit against the doorknob, Clint slammed the door shut. Barney tossed his jacket to Clint.

"What the fuck do you want me to do with this?" Clint shouted, holding the coat up by a sleeve.

"Hang it up for me, dumbass," Barney answered, already upstairs. Clint heard his brother's door slam shut.

"Lazy-ass idiot," Clint muttered, throwing the jacket on a hanger and putting it carelessly back.

Luckily, his parents weren't home, or else he would've gotten a tongue-lashing for all the language. Although they were his adoptive parents, Clint pretty much considered them his own. His brother and he had been adopted when Clint was four, after their parents had died. Clint barely remembered his birth parents, except for a single memory.

It was one time when they'd gone to the circus together. The performance was in an actual tent with tightrope-walkers, scary-ass clowns and strongmen. One performer in particular that Clint recalled was an archer. The circus had claimed that the archer was the 'most talented in the world'. Clint agreed, having seen the archer, who went by the name Hawkeye, hit a small target, no larger than a ping-pong ball, from a swinging rope over sixty feet away.

When he'd gotten home, he immediately took a rubber band and started shooting it at everything. His brother had gotten so annoyed, being eight years-old at the time, and took the rubber band and snapped it against Clint's leg. Clint started crying and Barney had gotten in trouble for it.

Clint loved that memory. It was the very last time that Barney had gotten in trouble.

Now that Barney was in college, he wasn't home as often, which made Clint much less stressed. During the one year they had in high school together, Clint would have his things stolen by Barney and his friends, get pushed around, and have garbage thrown at him. He hadn't quite became friends with Thor or Steve yet, so there was no one to stand by him.

Clint took a granola bar from the cupboard and headed to the living room. He turned on the TV, surfing the channels until he found something to watch. He only had a little homework, which he'd save after returning home from cadets. Resting at the moment, he only moved when he felt his phone buzz.

To his surprise, it was a text from Natasha.

'**What pages are we supposed to do in math**?" was all it said.

Sighing disappointedly, he replied her then put his phone back in his pocket. He never knew what he got his hopes up for when it came to Natasha. The redhead was something else entirely. Unlike the other girls he'd liked before, she didn't succumb to his smiles and jokes as easily as they did.

He liked that: hard-to-get. Clint could work with that. Although, it had been nearly two years, and there was yet to be a response from her. He didn't know whether she was super annoyed with him, was flirting back, or just playing along. The tricky thing about girls was that he had _no idea _what was going on in their heads.

He'd asked his mom once on advice about a girl (which was a big mistake). She said something about feelings, insecurity and other things which he'd completely zoned out from. His dad saved him by asking Clint if he wanted to help fix the car, even though Clint knew there was nothing wrong with it. Paul, his adoptive father, was the best dad Clint could want.

His great adoptive parents made up for the jerk of a blood-brother he had.

AAAAAAA

Tony took the long way back home. Instead of taking the route he took to get to school, he went down onto the freeway. His topless Ferrari zoomed down the highway, passing the slower cars and weaving through trucks. Pepper, who was in the seat next to him, was gripping her seat tightly. Her orange hair was tied back in a ponytail and was whipping around behind her. She had her eyes squeezed shut, and constantly shouted to Tony to slow down.

As usual, her boyfriend pretended he couldn't hear her, but she felt their speed go down slightly. When he was finally only at 85 miles per hour, Pepper felt safe to open her eyes again.

"_Jesus Christ_," she said breathlessly, as if she'd been the one driving. "You drive like a maniac."

Tony shrugged. "I like going fast, you know that. To have the wind blowing in my hair and-"

"Feeling as if your face is going to peel off?" Pepper interrupted. He glanced at Pepper and within those two seconds, the car swerved slightly, nearly hitting the pickup truck in the next lane.

The driver of the truck honked loudly, shouting through the open window. Tony saluted him and sped past him, making a face after he'd gone. Pepper had her hands on the sides of her seat again, her knuckles white. After Tony had slowed down again, he put a hand on her tense shoulder.

She shrugged it off. "You just got your license. Do you want to get it revoked already?" Pepper looked at the side view mirror, seeing the cars fall far behind them.

"I won't get caught, Pep," he replied nonchalantly. "I've been on the roads for a year; I'm pretty much an experienced driver."

They sped back to Tony's family's tower. With their name in bright lights at the top, Stark Tower was the grandest office building in the city. Pepper had been inside many times, ever since she became Tony's friend. It wasn't until the year before had they become boyfriend and girlfriend.

Tony used his keycard to get into the building, nodding to the receptionist and security stationed around the entrance. Having to take the public elevator up to a certain floor, and then using the keycard again to access the private elevator, they finally made it up to the Starks' home.

Typically, the upper floors of the tower were void of life until Maria Stark returned from her daily errands and Howard Stark finished work. Tony gestured for Pepper to get comfortable, but she was already inside, sitting on the leather sofa with a magazine in hand. On the cover was Howard Stark in a prim grey suit and a stern expression on his face.

Grabbing the magazine from his girlfriend, Tony tossed it face down on the coffee table. He pulled her up and into the kitchen, sitting her at the counter. He got a can of Orange Crush for Pepper and pulled a Dr Pepper out for himself. Popping the caps open, Tony took a long swig. He found it amusing that his favourite soda had the name of his girlfriend.

"You know, you should become a doctor." Tony pointed to his can. "Then I can tell people just how much I enjoy Dr Pepper in bed and they won't notice a thing."

Pepper thwacked the back of his head, rolling her eyes. She wasn't quite sure how she became friends with Tony. In freshman year, she couldn't stand him. She supposed it was one project where they had to work in partners, did she realize that underneath the cockiness, he was a nice guy.

The niceness was proven in grade eleven when he asked her to be his girlfriend. He had actually dressed up as a salt shaker and stood on a table in the middle of the cafeteria.

He'd said: "Hey, baby, what's shaking? Everyone knows that you can't have salt without pepper, so I need to ask you something important: will be my girlfriend?"

Unbelievably cheesy, Tony had admitted later on, but Pepper thought it was sweet. At first, Pepper had scared him by jokingly saying no. Then, after seeing his hurt expression, she quickly climbed onto the table and gave him a big hug. Of course, she said yes, and before Tony could kiss her, a teacher had intervened. It was by far her favourite moment of high school so far.

"Earth to Pepper," Tony said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She snapped back to reality. "Oh, yeah, sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was telling you about my detention."

"Your hundredth detention."

"Actually, it was my fifty-fourth, but that's beside the point." Tony went around the counter and sat next to her. He told her about his senior-year pranks that he was planning to pull with a group of people he'd been in detention with.

When Pepper heard the names, she was surprised. "Steve Rogers? The to-be valedictorian? And seriously, _Bruce_? He has got to be the least-likely to be playing practical jokes."

Tony shrugged. "Well, they haven't really agreed yet. But if they're not in on it, they'll be the first victims."

Pepper looked concerned. "I don't think that it's such a good idea, Tony. Do you _want _to get suspended before you graduate?"

"Oh, come on." He held her hands in his, squeezing them lightly. "I won't get caught, you want to know why?"

"Not re-"

"Because I know someone who can help," Tony interrupted. "He's practically a shadow in this school. As a matter of fact, I don't think you even know him."

"What's his name?"

"Do you know Thor Odinson?"

She nodded, still looking bemused.

"His younger brother, I hear, is quite the trickster."


	6. Chapter 5

"I don't enjoy your company."

The words tumbled out of Loki's mouth, his very first thought when the boy beside him finished talking. Tony Stark had planted himself in the seat next to Loki in science, ignoring the looks from the teacher. Having copied down the note already, Loki was focused on Tony's plans for a fun-filled year.

"You're very truthful," Tony noted drily. "I don't know what they were thinking, calling you a 'jackass liar' around school." He had his sunglasses perched on his face, despite it being indoors. As if to complete his outfit, he left his red jacket on, even though it was stifling hot in the room.

Sighing, Loki said, "If you would be so kind as to _leave me alone, _I might consider helping you with your plans."

"No you won't." Grabbing Loki's pen, he took Loki's hand and scribbled something on it before Loki could pull away. "Call me tonight to confirm your part, or I will hunt you down every day until you agree."

As the bell rang for the end of class, Tony strutted out the room, barely listening to Loki's protests. Even if that kid didn't have a cell phone, Tony would eagerly await a call.

AAAAAAA

Being an only child had its ups and downs. Bruce could list at least ten of each. One of the downs was that he had no one to help block out the sounds of his parents fighting.

Once again, his father was drunk and shouting at his mom. His mom, although she tried to remain strong, always ended up crying after every fight. She would be in the kitchen after his father stormed out of the house, blankly staring at the wall in front of her. Bruce had tried to get his mom's attention by crawling into her lap when he was younger, but at seventeen years old, it wouldn't be that easy.

Tossing down his pen after his father slammed the door again, Bruce put his head in his hands. He couldn't concentrate on homework when his mom was crying.

For the first time in a couple years, he headed downstairs where he knew his mom was. Instead of tearing up, his mom was banging the pots and pans into the sink after she'd scrubbed each of them.

"Um, mom?" Bruce hesitantly showed himself.

Immediately, she shut off the water. "Shouldn't you be doing your homework?" she snapped.

"I was. But I heard-" He stopped when he saw his mom's eyes flash angrily. "I'll go back up, then."

When he turned and started heading back, his mom called him, her voice slightly apologetic.

"Bruce, come here."

He went back to her, enveloping himself in her open arms. Since starting high school, Bruce had begun to drift away from his mom, seldom leaving time for them to talk like they used to. Never about anything serious, but rather about school, trips to the beach, little happy things. He'd started to miss those conversations where his mom would ruffle his hair affectionately when he said something cute.

"I love you, you know," his mom said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you too," Bruce muttered, inhaling his mom's lavender perfume.

"This weekend, let's go out. Just the two of us. I'll take you to the science museum downtown."

Pleasantly surprised, Bruce looked up into his mom's warm brown eyes. "That sounds great," he said, genuinely excited. "There's this new exhibit there and I want to see it. It's this whole room for chemistry things. I saw it online, and it looks cool. Oh and there's also…"

As her son rambled on, his voice rising with enthusiasm, for the first time in months, Mrs. Banner smiled.

AAAAAAA

With her red hair tied in a tight bun Natasha lugged her ballet bag over her shoulder, humming the tune they'd been dancing to. Her ballet lesson had just ended, an hour-and-a-half long session of working on their technique. Even then, she was only slightly tired, barely a sweat on her.

She waited at the bus stop, putting in her iPod headphones and shuffling through her playlist. As the song started to play, Natasha leaned against the outside of the bus shelter, closing her eyes. Completely immersed in the music, she didn't hear someone call her name at first. Not until the person tapped her on the shoulder did she pull her ear buds out.

"You left a roll of lamb's wool in the change room." Yelena Belova, a tall, limber blonde, held out the roll.

Natasha nodded her thanks and put it in her ballet bag. Reclosing it, she saw that Yelena was still in front of her. The two hadn't gotten along very well since they first started ballet together thirteen years ago. They were fierce competitors to be at the top of the class, always fighting to get the lead in ballets. Most of the time Natasha beat Yelena and Yelena was left to be one of the back-ups.

For that reason, Yelena enjoyed to talk behind Natasha's back with the other envious girls. It never got to Natasha, for the redhead had thick skin, but it occasionally got on her nerves.

The other girls were jealous of those two, always being put in the shadows of the Russians. Though not born in Russia, Yelena and Natasha had the slightest of Northern Russian accents because of whom they grew up with, and were immediately categorized as the 'The Flawless Russians'. Natasha hated being called that name and she could see it bothered Yelena as well. At least that was one thing they could agree on.

"I was wondering if you could help me." It seemed to be quite the challenge for Yelena to choke those words out.

Natasha, relishing in Yelena's discomfort, though not showing her smugness, said, "What do you need help with?"

"Lana told me that my fouettés were getting sloppy. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but she just keeps saying, 'Practice, practice, practice!'"

Their ballet instructor, Lana Trooper, was known for being very picky. She was also known for not telling her students _what _they were incorrectly. The only advice she'd give them would be to find it out on their own. It was extremely annoying, but it got the job done. At the end of the year, by their holiday performance, all the dancers would be prepared, all their mistakes fixed.

It was beyond any of their capacity to understand how it happened.

"Okay," Natasha agreed. "When do you want to practice?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." She had never thought that she would be making plans to be with Yelena. Next thing she knew, Steve would willingly be running outside naked. Or perhaps Thor would get a mark over eighty- percent on a math test.

The screeching of the bus' tires drew the girls' attention to it, and they filed on. Even then, they took seats a distance away from each other, pretending that their conversation outside had never happened. Natasha leaned against the cool glass, plugging her ear buds back into her iPod. She watched as they passed by neighbourhoods and other buildings, saw teens holding Starbucks drinks, walking down the street happily with their friends.

Then, as the bus rolled down the quieter side of the city, the scenery changed. Instead of manicured lawns and grand corner houses, there sat smaller, more rundown homes. At the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, Natasha exited the bus, thanking the bus driver. She passed by the same chain-linked fences, the old billboard for an ad five years before, and graffiti covering many buildings.

Finally she turned down the street, reaching an old, redbrick house. Turning the key in the lock, the door swung open before she touched the doorknob.

"Alexei, hey." Natasha's next door neighbour and childhood friend, Alexei Shoshtakov, was standing before her, a bag of chips in hand.

"Hi, Natasha." Alexei greeted her with a smile, holding out the bag.

She shook her head. "Just had ballet. Don't want to eat all the bad calories I just burned."

"You girls with your calorie concerns." Alexei shook his head disbelievingly. "Not even _one_ _barbeque-flavoured _chip?"

Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him into the house, tossing her ballet bag on the stairs. She went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Alexei followed her, putting the empty chip bag into the garbage.

"Is my uncle home?" Natasha asked after a sip of her juice.

"He's in the backyard." Alexei sat down at the dining table, putting his feet up on the chair across from him. "Doing some landscaping or something."

Natasha swatted his feet off the chair and sat down, snorting. Ivan was never a good gardener, nor did he have a very good eye for anything creative. Sometimes, though, he'd have a day of determination where he'd try to do something artistic, and it would end up in the basement.

He told her that his brother, who was Natasha's dad, was an amazing artist. Anything from an old chair to a rusty old rod could be turned into something completely different when passed through her father's hands. She didn't quite get his eye for art and construction, instead inheriting her mother's interest in dancing and singing.

Though, her exceptional fighting skills were developed by her uncle. He used to be a soldier, and fought in the Vietnam War. Sometimes, he would rub his leg, where he was wounded many years ago, whenever it rained. She supposed it was like those farmers who feel pain in their knees when the weather was about to get bad.

"Uncle Ivan," Natasha called out, sliding open the back glass door.

"Hello, Little Red." Her uncle had his back to her, carefully measuring the length of the yard. "How was ballet?"

"Good. Should I get something ready for dinner?"

"Yeah, there are some leftovers in the fridge. If you could warm them up, that would be great."

Natasha pulled the door closed and got out the chicken breasts and potatoes which were wrapped in saran wrap. She put them into the microwave, turning around to Alexei who had been watching her.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Natasha teased, and Alexei flushed.

"Ha ha, very funny." Alexei made a face. "So how was your detention last week? I forgot to ask."

"It was interesting," was all she said.

"Oh, come on, is that it?"

"Well, you know Tony Stark. He had this idea for us, me, the kids in detention, and himself, to have this whole prank-fest this year. Since it's our senior year, he wants to go all out and try to get himself suspended. I swear, if he gets us arrested..."

"Wait, you're going along with the pranks?" Alexei looked surprised. "I never bagged you as a trickster."

Natasha shrugged. "I actually don't know yet. Clint - you know, the archer - he and I were discussing it after school, and Clint actually had some pretty decent prank ideas. Clint's such a douche sometimes, but he's pretty cool most of the time. _Especially _when he's not hitting on me like a piñata."

Alexei nodded absentmindedly, picking at the edge of the table. Then the microwave beeped, and Natasha grabbed a cloth, pulling the hot pot of chicken and potatoes out carefully. Placing it on the counter, got out a couple plates and utensils, and set them on the dining table.

"What, no plate for me?" Alexei said, widening his eyes.

"You're staying for dinner _again_?"

"Well, I mean, if you don't have enough food, then I-"

If anything, that was the last thing Natasha wanted people to be concerned about: whether or not she had enough food. She knew that her and her uncle didn't have extra money, and they barely made it through every month to pay the mortgage. Alexei, though, lived down the street, where the houses weren't quite as small. In fact, his family was the richest in the neighbourhood. The only reason they still lived there was because of Natasha. Alexei refused to move because he didn't want to live so far from her.

Natasha was flattered, but couldn't say the same thing about him. She would leap at a chance to move out of her current neighbourhood, which she wasn't too fond of. Just a few months ago she'd been jumped by a few guys, who attempted to steal her wallet. Of course, she defended herself, and the guys ran off. But it made her reluctant to walk alone again at night, because of the possibility that the next person who tried to attack her had a weapon.

"No," Natasha said curtly, "it's fine. Stay. Eat. I know you like chicken."

"It was the potatoes, I was eager to stay for."

"Okay, potatoes, then."

.

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! I have exams this week (they're a pain), and I've still got two more to go. **

**By the way, I know Ivan's not her _real _uncle and Alexei's sort of not what you'd think he'd be like. I'm just putting it out there. Anyway, thanks for the reviews and alerts; they make me very happy :)**


	7. Chapter 6

"Welcome everyone to the first official meeting of S.Y.P.C."

Gathered around one end of a long meeting table sat four guys, all listening to the one at the head seat. Tony Stark had his arms out, a wide smile plastered on his face, as he greeted the others. They were indifferent to his jubilant welcome, only Thor looking at him. Thor's younger brother, Loki, was fiddling with his green watch, disinterested in the whole meeting. Clint was diligently tapping away on his phone, a small smile creeping up on his face.

"Who're texting, Robin Hood?" Tony attempted to snatch Clint's phone from him.

Locking the screen, Clint pocketed the phone. "None of your business," he snapped. "Now what were you saying about S.P.C. or whatever?"

"S.Y.P.C." Tony corrected. "It's short for the _Senior Year Prank Committee_."

Loki rolled his eyes, crossing his legs. "While that is a brilliant acronym, do you mind informing us of the purpose of calling us here today?"

Looking around, Thor spotted a tray of snacks near the window. He got up and stacked a napkin with crackers and cheese, then sat back down. "Now you may commence."

"_Well_," Tony said, exhaling loudly, "now that you people are finished interrupting me, I think I'll formally begin this meeting. So, fellow pranksters, I'd like to welcome you all here today. I thought that we would have a few more people here today, but I suppose you guys will be enough. Anyway, we came together to have fun this year by wreaking havoc and basically not giving a shit about getting trouble."

"I do not wish to get any more detentions, Tony," Thor protested, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Okay, then." Tony shrugged. "You won't have to be seen doing these pranks, but you'll still technically be in on them. That means you'll attend our meetings and be part of the planning. Good?"

Thor nodded, satisfied, and Tony went on: "Clint, I trust you to be the guy-up-high. So you will be the supervisor, making sure we aren't seen when we don't want to be. You'll still help with other stuff too, but seeing as you have the best eyesight, you'll pretty much be the one at the top of the flag pole."

Then, turning to Loki, whose pale, turquoise-coloured eyes were fixed on him, Tony smiled forebodingly.

"You, Loki, have a special part in this."

Uncrossing his arms and legs, Loki raised his eyebrows expectantly. "I'm listening."

"You are the main 'doer'," Tony said. "Since you're excellent at being invisible, you're perfect for setting up all our pranks. That means that you have the highest risk of getting into trouble, but I highly doubt you care.

"And I will be the brains of the operation. I'll plan everything and get you guys set up wherever you need be. Copish?"

"I agree."

"I'm in."

Loki thought for a moment, then cracked the smallest of grins. "When do we start?"

AAAAAAA

He never thought that he would be right outside of Stark Tower, staring up at the imposing glass building. Unsure of whether or not to knock on the front door, or go into the lobby where the receptionist was sitting, he stood awkwardly outside. If it were just an office building, he'd go straight in. But since it doubled as a home, he thought that he would have to have an invite to get in.

Feeling his phone buzz, he retrieved it from his pocket. It was a text from Tony which read, Tell the receptionist lady that Tony Stark invited you. She'll call me, then let you up.

Bruce did just that, and he was pointed to an elevator after being given a keycard. When he reached the floor, he stepped out nervously, feeling as if he shouldn't be there, even after being given permission. He went down the hall until he found a glass-paneled room labeled the 'Meeting Room'.

Inside sat four guys, a couple of which were munching on various snacks. Tony Stark spotted Bruce and waved him inside.

"How'd you know I was down there?" Bruce carefully shut the door behind him, slowly making his way to the table.

Clint raised his hand. "I saw you."

"Ah," Bruce said, nodding. "So did I miss anything?"

Tony shook his head. "Nothing much. We just distributed our jobs for each prank. Of course, I'm the smartest here, so I'll be the head of the brains department. You will be the main organizer and tech guy with me."

"I will only be part of them if you promise I won't get in trouble."

Tony threw his hands up. "Come on, lighten up! We won't get arrested." There was silence. "Okay, no promises there."

With Tony's eyes boring into his, Bruce gave in. "Fine. I'll do the pranks."

The boys began to discuss ideas, Tony piping out the most. Loki shot the majority of them down immediately, finding a flaw in them. After ten minutes, Tony was fed up with having his ideas torn to pieces, and rolled his chair to the window, taking a swig of his soda.

Bruce listened to Clint put out a few schemes, with Thor offering a few suggestions as well. Even though he seemed to have plenty of pranks, Loki only sat, listening to the others. He didn't seem to be particularly enjoying hearing the two spew out the first plans that they thought of, his eyes glazing over slightly.

When it seemed like they weren't getting anywhere, Bruce finally stopped them. "You do realize that all these plans are very… simple, right?"

The boys all turned to look at him, Loki with a small smile on his face. Apparently, that was exactly what he was thinking as well.

"Then what do you propose?" Thor questioned, not seeming annoyed like Tony.

"I- I don't know, really."

Thankfully, Loki interjected. "I have a proposal."

"Where's the ring, hun?" Tony waggled his eyebrows playfully.

Loki ignored him. "It is rather intricate, and I am not positive that all of you," his gaze landed on his brother and Clint, "will be able to follow along."

"Dick," Clint muttered into his cup, glaring at Loki.

"This plan will spiral into several smaller ones, but it will come together to be part of one mass prank at the end of the year."

"Go on," Tony goaded.

He began to explain. By the end of the hour, they had a basic outline of the plans, the first part already complete. They would begin on the Monday right after the weekend. The boys left, feeling excited about going back to school.

Tony scoffed when he realized he was looking forward to the weekend being over. Then, when he went up to his bedroom, he pulled out a bottle of scotch from his top drawer and tipped the contents down his throat.

Now that was a much more familiar feeling.

AAAAAAA

In the dwindling sunlight of the day, two figures sat on a grassy hill, hands joined. Their heads were close together, facing the horizon. Tall green trees surrounded them, swaying in the gentle winds.

Peggy Carter leaned against her boyfriend's shoulder, sighing contently. They had barely enough time to be with each other outside of school, for the copious amount of homework they had already received. Both of them were hard-working students, each vying for an award at the end of the year. Neither of them dared miss any days of school, or even be tardy to classes.

"Steve." Peggy turned to her boyfriend who was toying with a piece of grass. When he looked to her, she continued before she could change her mind. "What did you think of Beth?"

"Uh- she was nice, I guess." Steve shrugged. "Why?"

"No reason," she replied nonchalantly. "I was just wondering." There was a moment of quiet. "She's quite pretty, isn't she?"

He hesitated. "I didn't really pay attention."

Seeming satisfied, Peggy leaned back against him. Comfortable silence fell between the two. Having been together for a year, they were always at ease with each other's company. They knew much about each other, though there were deep secrets that both of them had that they never revealed. They respected each other's privacy, knowing how annoying it was to be nagged.

"Did I tell you about Tony Stark's plans for this year?" Steve chuckled. "He's just itching for a suspension this year."

Steve told her about Tony's senior-year prank ideas during the detention he'd been supervising. All the while, Peggy was listening intently looking amused. When he'd finished, she began to laugh.

Peggy felt as if she was listening to the ideas of a five-year old, but she realized that that was exactly what Tony was. He was just a child wanting to have fun.

Then, nudging her boyfriend, she grinned. "So are you going to join them?"

"Hell no," Steve replied, looking appalled. "I don't want a black mark on my record just because of some stupid prank." The back of his mind was somewhat contemplating doing something memorable this year along the lines of a prank. Not as risky as Tony's would be, but something to be remembered by, other than the best grades.

"The sunset is gorgeous," Peggy muttered, turning to stare out at the sinking sun.

Steve glanced down at his girlfriend, his eyes fixated on her profile. "Just beautiful," he mumbled.

Her brown eyes traveled up to his blue ones. She cracked a smile, her bright red lips stretching across her white teeth.

"You _are _a hopeless romantic." Amused, Peggy shook her head, turning her gaze back to the sunset. "Can you believe it? We're in our _last _year of high school. Next year we're off to college."

"We still have eleven months together."

She cast her gaze down. "Time flies, Steve."

Easing his girlfriend off, Steve propped himself up, putting his hands on Peggy's shoulders. She looked so sad that he pulled her into a tight hug. Normally, she was a strong girl, her brazen determination masking her true emotions. Her father had been in the army and she looked up to him as a role model, being strong in the memory of him.

Pressing his lips onto her forehead, Steve whispered, "Then we'd better make the best of this time." With that, he put his lips against hers, not noticing how dark it had become after the sun had set. Now no one could see two silhouettes, merged together as if they were one.

.


	8. Chapter 7

His eyes were trained on the target and his breaths were steady. Then, he let go of the arrow. It hit the target exactly in the centre of the bullseye. With a satisfied smirk, he released five more, all of them landing where he had aimed them. The other boys didn't bother applauding him as they were preoccupied with their own shooting. Clint was the best archer in Marvel Cadets, even surpassing the skills of the older leaders. Next, they practiced with rifles, Clint hitting every target with perfect accuracy.

They had already done weight-training, and their survival week was every other week. So they were soon dismissed, Clint heading straight to the showers. It was the same routine every time. He and a boy named Jimmy would talk, complaining about teachers and homework, and occasionally about girls. That day was no different, though Jimmy decided to bring up the subject that he knew bothered Clint.

"So," Jimmy said as they pulled on their clothes, "how is it with you and Natasha? You still see her around that guy Alexei?"

Clint scowled. Since Alexei's and Natasha's little fling back in their freshman year, he had disliked the guy. He would insist that he wasn't jealous, but inside, a little voice would protest otherwise.

"Yeah," Clint snapped.

The other boy snickered. "You didn't answer my first question."

Pulling on his jacket, Clint zipped up his duffel bag, hauling it over his shoulder. Jimmy was still tying his shoes as Clint made to leave.

"Wait up, Barton." Jimmy finished with his shoes and grabbed his own bag. He trailed after Clint as they left the change room. "Are you and Natasha a thing now?"

Clint didn't bother turning to face the younger boy. "What do you fucking think?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"Barton." Their instructor and former lieutenant, Buck Chisholm, a middle-aged man who was once in the army, called him over. Gesturing to a man beside him, he said, "This is Colonel Jacques Duquesne."

The first thing Clint thought when he saw Duquesne, was 'French'. The colonel had graying hair, matching his mustache which had the stereotypical French look. But when he spoke, there was barely a hint of any accent.

"Clint Barton, sir." Clint shook the colonel's hand.

"I saw you practicing," Duquesne said smiling. "You are exceptionally good."

"Thank you, sir."

"If you're interested, I was hoping that you could stop by my base camp this week."

Clint blinked. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"You have great talents, Barton." The colonel laid a hand on Clint's shoulder. "With more training, you would be an excellent addition." At his bemused expression, Duquesne further explained to Clint.

By the time Clint left the shooting range, he was walking with a skip in his step. Jimmy had to hurry to keep up with him.

"Congrats, Clint," he said, seeming genuinely happy for his friend. The other guys would only be envious of his chance to practice alongside army members. That was the reason Clint liked Jimmy. "Lucky asshole."

Clint's phone rang, and he answered. "Hey, Natasha."

The person spoke.

"No. Why?" Clint replied.

More talking on the other end.

"Sounds good. I'll pick you up at six. Bye."

Clint hung up, a wide grin stretching across his face. He tossed his bag aside, doing a back flip and letting out a whoop. His happiness was infectious, and Jimmy couldn't help but grin as well. He had never seen his friend so excited. Clint was generally a reserved guy, except for the frequent smart comments which usually got him extra push-ups.

"This is unreal," Clint finally said breathlessly. "After four years, I finally get a date with Nat. On top of that, I get to train with actual soldiers. How- I mean, god…"

Jimmy patted Clint on the back. "You deserve it, man. The training part at least. From what I've heard about her, Natasha seems _so _out of your league. She's hot, you're not."

Ducking from Clint's punch, Jimmy ran as Clint chased after him. It reminded Clint of how he and his brother used to play many years ago. Those times where Barney would build Lego cities with him, play soccer and basketball together, and just hang out, floated through his mind. When Barney had started high school, everything had changed. But by the time Clint had tackled Jimmy to the ground, he forgot all about his brother.

AAAAAAA

On a cloudy Monday morning, Principal Fury's SUV pulled into the parking lot of Marvel High School. With his long black coat and a dark leather suitcase, he entered the school, nodding to the janitor. Once he settled in his desk, he pulled out his phone, checking for any notifications. Then, he proceeded to log on to his computer, scrolling through his e-mail inbox.

It wasn't until he refreshed the webpage did he notice a new unopened e-mail labeled as '_Yearbook' 2012_. When he clicked it, a picture of a very familiar student popped up, with the caption saying, "_Vote Tony Stark for Student Council President!_" Tony was smirking up at Fury from the screen, sunglasses on and two fingers in a peace sign.

Double checking the sender was, in fact, Vice Principal Coulson, Fury shook his head. Despite the fact that everyone knew Tony Stark could hack onto a company's server as easily as someone could open a browser, many people didn't take him seriously. They weren't the ones whose e-mail accounts were being hacked. Nor were they the people whose PA system was constantly overridden. But Fury was one of those unlucky victims.

The moment Coulson stepped into Fury's office, Fury showed him the e-mail. Coulson sighed, obviously not having sent the message, and immediately changed his password, even though he knew it would do him no good. If Tony Stark wanted access to something, he got it.

"Don't bother calling Tony down here," Fury told Coulson. "The whole purpose of detentions is so there would be a motivation for these kids to _not do _whatever they did again. You know they aren't like that anymore." Rising from the chair, Fury patted Coulson on the shoulder. "Those kids who get in trouble, _like _getting in trouble. We'll have to think of some other… harsher consequences."

AAAAAAA

Tony slammed his phone onto the desk, startling the students around him. The teacher wasn't in the room at the moment, which would've been Tony's one-way ticket down to the office. As Tony winced, rubbing his thumb which was caught between his phone and the hard desk, he scanned the message again. From the seat in front of Tony, a guy with glasses turned to look at him with distaste.

"What can I do for you, Justin?" Tony glared at him.

Justin Hammer, a sandy-haired, thick-rimmed glasses wearing, immensely irritating classmate. From the day Justin moved to Marvel High School, he managed to annoy half of the school's population. A self-loving, cocky guy, he was much like Tony in terms of personality. He was also decently smart, getting grades that were just below Tony's in science and math. The only people who tolerated Justin were Mr. Stern, the history teacher, and tattooed drug-dealer Ivan Vanko.

There were rumours saying that he only got on Ivan's good side because he got him a bird for Christmas. Other people were saying that Justin gave him free drugs. Whatever the reason, Justin was only protected from getting a daily punch by Ivan.

In his polite, yet annoying voice, Justin replied, "Did you finally get caught hacking into government files?"

"I've already successfully completed that." Putting in both ear buds, Tony turned up his music, but to his exasperation, still heard Justin's comeback.

"What did you find out? That your daddy is actually a robot or something, and that's why he has no love for you? Because everyone knows robots are heartless."

Tony rolled his eyes. "No, actually, I read that they are planning to eliminate all arrogant pigs with glasses as thick as their skulls that also have extremely irksome voices." He patted Justin lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm sure Ivan will hide you."

With Justin frowning, Tony could almost see the gears working in his head, trying to counter with something witty. He wasn't able to before their teacher returned, beginning their lesson. With Metallica playing loudly into his ears, he completely drowned out her teachings on the math unit they were on. He already understood all of it before he started high school.

Glancing down at his phone again, Tony re-read the message.

_Tony Stark, _it read, _you are to report to the front foyer of the school at 3:00. Vice Principal Coulson will be awaiting your arrival for your detention. There is no need to bring gloves, but hand sanitizer may be handy for afterwards. –Principal Nick Fury_

So they got me picking up trash, Tony thought, all for that harmless little e-mail. I guess they hadn't found the posts I made on Ms. Hill's Facebook page yet.

AAAAAAA

For the first time in his life, Loki smiled when he saw his brother. The blonde was failing miserably at his attempts to plant a row of tulips. With his brow shining with sweat and his hands covered with soil, Thor had only successfully planted two out of the ten he had lined up. He had volunteered to do the gardening for their mother, who was busy running errands.

"You've been out here for two hours." Loki sat on the front porch steps, smirking as his brother continued to labour over the plants.

Thor shook his head. "It has only been half-an-hour, brother." Nearly slamming the third tulip into the soil, he dusted off his hands and took a seat next to Loki.

"Where have you been?" Thor asked, reaching over his brother to get his can of soda.

Shrugging, Loki pursed his lips. "Out," he said finally.

"Have you been with friends?"

"I'm no hermit, Thor, contrary to popular belief." The corner of Loki's lip quirked up. "And you, o mighty gardener? How was your afternoon with the flowers?"

"Not as good as I had hoped." With a glare towards the tulips, Thor put his head in his hands, exasperated. "I will have disappointed mother yet again." His voice was muffled by his palms.

If anything, Thor was never a disappointment with their parents. It was Loki who was always getting put down by their father. Odin played favourites, as Loki had found out at an early age. Thor, although only a year older, got what he wanted without an argument. Despite that, Loki discovered how to convince his other relatives to get him better presents than Thor. It seemed wrong, morally, though Loki felt that it was only fair.

Loki took a swig from his brother's soda. "Have you heard from Tony yet?" His brother shook his head. "The e-mails have been sent to everyone. Part two of our plan is underway."

"And we didn't get into trouble?"

"I saw Tony picking up trash outside the school." Loki smirked. "Hunched over with a black plastic bag in one hand and a crumpled napkin in the other."

Taking a breath of relief, Thor stood, holding a hand out for his brother. Loki pushed himself up, ignoring his brother. They went inside, the blonde making a beeline to the kitchen while the black-haired boy headed upstairs.

After school, Loki had been talking with Clint Barton, who wouldn't shut up about Natasha Romanoff. Despite all his efforts to get Clint to focus on the next prank, he couldn't. The guy was so excited about his training with soldiers and his date with Natasha that he could barely stand still. Loki gave up and left without saying a proper goodbye.

Downstairs, Loki heard the food cupboard open and close once again, then heard Thor return outside. Now alone in the house, Loki headed to his parents' room. He had wanted to read a book that Frigga had suggested to him, having recently taken interest in psychology. He was graduating that year, and was in desperate need of focusing on a major for university. On the bookshelf, he scanned the book spines, pulling out the book. He spotted a photo album labeled '1996-1997', curious as to why he hadn't seen it before.

Flipping to the first page of the album, there was a picture of Thor, who was no older than two, and his parents. At the corner of the photo, the date was written: November 3, 1996. At first, Loki had thought the date was a mistake. Loki was born on December 2 that very year. His mother had no baby bump.

His thoughts were proven correct when he looked through the rest of the album. He realized that his mother never had any looks of having been pregnant. Then, suddenly there was a photo of him being held by Thor. Unlike an album of a baby Thor, there were no pictures of Loki in the hospital with his mother.

"_Why can you not be like my son_?" Odin had once shouted after Loki had gotten caught stealing a toy, which had been a dare given to Loki by his 'friend'. At first, he thought that his father meant that he wasn't living up to expectations, but over the years, things had begun to change.

Another time was when Loki, Thor and their friends had gone out hunting one weekend the year before. Loki had tripped over one of their purposely-outstretched feet with a gun in hand. It wasn't on safety as he had been about to catch a deer, and the bullet had caught Thor in the shin. Luckily, it hadn't gone through bone, mostly having just torn through the skin, but their father was furious anyway.

Loki had protested at first, explaining what had happened. Odin would have none of it, so Loki gave up, accepting his father's lecture and punishment. Fandral, the person who had tripped Loki, made no effort to take the blame. None of the others who had seen spoke up either. From then on, Loki ignored Thor's friends completely, not even bothering to accept Fandral's apology a week later.

It was then that Loki had truly understood that he would always be the second-favourite son of Odin and Frigga.

There was first confusion clouding his mind. Then, the confusion had melted into pain, eventually turning into burning anger. It took all of Loki's efforts not to throw the album across the room, or chuck it out the window. Instead, he calmly put it away, and then headed back to his room. There, he slammed the door shut, rattling the doorframe. After kicking his chair over and hurling his neatly-placed stationary and textbooks all around his room, Loki retrieved a photo from his drawers.

It was a family photo, taken when he and Thor were much younger. They looked so happy together, Odin giving Loki a piggy-back ride. Even then, Loki looked nothing like his parents. They were both blonde, Odin's hair not yet as snowy-white as it currently was. Thor looked much like them, especially with the same piercing blue eyes. Loki's eyes weren't as bold of a blue, and he had always been much paler. His generally lanky build was unlike his parents' and Thor's broad ones.

With his anger boiling, Loki ripped the photo. He kept tearing it apart until it was nothing but bits of paper littering the ground. Then, he broke down, sobbing as he held his head in his hands. He felt nothing but betrayal and anguish as he cried. There was no reasoning in his mind, his emotions getting the better of him.

And there he sat, curled up, until the sun dipped below the horizon.

**.**


	9. Chapter 8

As his door creaked open, he turned his head away from the growing sliver of light. In came a tall woman, her long blonde hair falling in curls down her back. She was holding a platter of pork chops with cabbage, and a glass of water, offering it to her youngest son wordlessly. Loki didn't look at his mother or make any response to acknowledge her presence. Frigga took a seat next to her son on the ground, placing the plate in front of him.

"What's wrong, Loki?" She put a hand on his head, stroking his hair. When he flinched away from her touch, she sighed. "Did your father tell you?" Frigga said softly.

He looked to his hands which were clasped tightly in his lap. Shaking his head slightly, a lock of his hair fell in front of his face. Despite that, Frigga saw the tears in her son's eyes.

"The album," Loki croaked. His throat was dry from the crying he had done. Never had he cried so much since he was a little boy and broke his ankle from falling off the monkey bars. It was feeling he disliked, the wetness of the tears were like the sacrifice of his dignity.

His mother looked sad. "It was for the best. But there was not one day where I wanted to tell you. Your father… no, I mustn't place the blame on him. It was my decision to keep this from you, Loki."

"Why?"

She gazed at her son. "We kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different. You are in every way our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that."

Loki scowled. "Odin didn't do as well of a job."

"He is still 'father' to you," Frigga snapped, her tone suddenly becoming harsh. "As I am still your mother."

"What happened with my real parents?"

"Does it matter?" His mother nudged the plate of food closer to him.

Loki was going to reply with a scathing response, but chose to take a bite of his dinner instead. It tasted bland in his mouth. Like sandpaper. He had a difficult time swallowing the bite. Frigga was still seated next to him, studying him. After finishing the pork chops, he pushed away the plate.

"I don't like cabbage," he said.

Frigga sighed and picked up the platter. She stood up, glancing at his things strewn all over his usually-tidy room. Taking in the sight of the ripped-up photo, she felt a pang of regret. Loki had already returned to his thoughts, his light-blue eyes glazed over. His mother left without a word, shutting the door behind her with a click. Once again, Loki was alone. The talk with his mother didn't console him, nor did it make him want to speak with his father or Thor.

He still felt betrayed, as he had lived just less than sixteen years thinking he was an Odinson. Rather than wanting to find out his birth parents, he had absolutely no interest. Inside his mind, he knew that his true parents were still alive, and had abandoned him. He had no proof, but had a strong feeling about it. If they didn't want him, he wouldn't bother to care about them either.

Taking a sip of water, Loki climbed onto his bed, lying on top of the covers with his outside-clothes still on. It was there where his sadness resided ever-so-slightly, making way for numbness. The sudden lack of feeling he had in him led to dulled senses, eventually calming him into a deep sleep.

AAAAAAA

Tony surveyed the cafeteria, ignoring the calls of some classmates asking him to sit with them. When he spotted Clint heading outside with Thor, he followed them. They approached a tall willow tree and sat, Thor with his tray piled high with food. Unlike usual, Clint was smiling, truly happy, not just smirking.

"Hey, Tony," Clint greeted when he spotted him.

"Cheery today, aren't we?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "Did you finally get it on with Natasha?"

"I went on a date with her yesterday."

Smirking, Tony patted the excited boy on the back. "Taking little steps, I see. Did you get a kiss in?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Clint's smile faltered slightly. Tony chuckled, knowing that the answer was 'no'. He turned to Thor, who was in the midst of putting mustard and relish on his third hot dog.

"Where's your little bro?" Tony asked.

"He is not feeling well," Thor replied vaguely, taking a bite.

There was a silence that fell between the three of them. Clint glanced around, as if he was looking for someone. Then, as a redhead exited the school building, his eyes locked onto her figure. She turned the corner, out of Clint's sight. He frowned, turning back to his sandwich, as if nothing happened.

Their date had gone well, though there was an unfortunate run-in with a rabid dog. He had been walking her home when a big Rottweiler decided that they were too close to his owner's yard. Thankfully the leash wasn't too long, and they had made it past with their bodies whole.

"When are we carrying out Part Two?" Clint said finally. Their first part of the prank went smoothly, save for Tony's detention.

"Was it not to be done on Thursday?" Thor furrowed his eyebrows.

Tony looked reluctant. "I was thinking of changing Part Two a little."

"My brother had it carefully planned out."

"Yeah, about that." Pulling off his sunglasses, Tony took one of Thor's ketchup-drenched fries. He put a handful into his mouth, and then licked the sauce off his fingers. "We were supposed to meet up today at my house-"

"Mansion," Clint muttered.

"–To sort out that part," Tony continued. "Seeing as the mastermind isn't feeling all that good, we can't exactly _do _it. I mean, maybe when Loki comes out of his room, then we can do his plan. Until then, maybe we could do something more fun for Thursday."

Clint and Thor shared a look. Then, Thor nodded. "I suppose that would be fine."

"Great." Tony clapped his hands together. "Meet me at the parking lot after school. I'll give you guys a ride to humble abode."

AAAAAAA

"Just one more year, bro, then you'll be with me."

Steve grinned as his friend slapped him good-naturedly on the back. They were standing at the shore of the East River. Once a month, since the year before, Steve would visit the Marvel Training Base to visit his best friend.

James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as everyone called him, was training there since he graduated high school two years ago. Ever since they had been next-door neighbours when they were in elementary school, they became best friends. The two boys were inseparable having shared the same dream of joining the army as soon as they got out of school.

Both of their fathers fought in Afghanistan and returned home a different man. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the therapists had said. Like Steve's father, Mr. Barnes died after having too much to drink one night. But Bucky's mother had passed away as well, leaving Bucky orphaned at age fourteen. He was left with his grandparents and was moved across town.

"So how's Miss Carter?" Bucky picked up a pebble, tossing it across the water. It leapt three times before it sank with a splash.

"She's fine," Steve replied, fiddling with his visitor ID pass that was clipped to his coat.

"Have you told her about you enlisting next summer?"

Steve watched as the flat pebble Bucky had thrown skipped four times. Small ripples exuded from the centre where it sank. He thought about something that his grade ten English teacher had said, 'Every choice you make has its consequences, just as every stone dropped in the ocean creates many ripples. And there is no way of telling where it will end.' At the time the quote seemed insignificant, barely registering in his mind.

Now that he was faced with the decision of joining the army or going to college, Steve had reconsidered his immediate choice. Rather than training at the base, he could be getting an education first. He had always wanted to go into an art school, having loved art just as his mother did. The two choices were warring in his mind, and Steve had no idea where he wanted to go.

"You alright, Steve?"

Steve turned to Bucky who was watching him with concern. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… thinking."

Slinging an arm around his shoulders, Bucky began to steer Steve back to the main building. Once inside, they got a few looks from the soldiers who were unfamiliar with Steve, and some greets from the others. A tall, muscular woman, no older than twenty-five, marched up to the two boys.

"Barnes," she said curtly. "The colonel wants to speak with you."

"Yes, ma'am." Bucky saluted her and she left. "That's Officer Maximoff. She's rather callous, but I guess you kind of have to be if you're a woman in the army. There are a couple of guys who still think that women are weaker than us. I think that it's bullshit, to be honest."

An image of Peggy appeared in Steve's mind when she had punched Gilmore Hodge after he had tried to kiss her. Gilmore had collapsed in a heap with a bleeding nose and a bruised ego. "To hell with those thoughts," Steve said.

Bucky glanced down the hall. "I better get going." He clasped Steve's shoulder firmly. "Good luck at school, man."

Grinning, Steve saluted him. "Train hard, soldier."

AAAAAAA

Scrolling through the few pictures on her phone, Natasha tried not to kick herself. The images consisted mainly of her, unaware that pictures were being taken. The date the night before with Clint had gone rather smoothly, unlike a few of the other dates she had gone on. While they were mini-putting, Clint had taken her phone and began to snap pictures of her. A majority of the photos were rather unflattering, though there was one which was admittedly a good shot.

She wasn't sure exactly why she asked Clint on a date so suddenly. Ever since they started high school, she knew that he had the biggest crush on her. But Natasha had never thought of him as anything more than a classmate. But in their junior year, they had begun to talk, having all the same classes together. By the end of the year, they had become closer, but not as close as she was to Alexi. Natasha had still thought that he was too overconfident for his own good.

When Clint had arrived at her front porch at six o'clock sharp the night before, he had a cocky smile plastered on his face. Underneath the grin, she could sense a bit of nervousness, usually not associated with him. She decided then that she made the right choice in asking him out. Natasha had also expected him to have ridden a motorcycle to pick her up, or at least his own car.

Instead, there was Clint's mom in the driver's seat of a minivan, waving excitedly at her. She had heard Clint groan next to her, reluctantly opening the shotgun seat for Natasha. While Natasha and his mother talked, he sat at the back fiddling with his phone. Once they got to the outdoor mini-putt place, they realized that they were the oldest there, aside from the parents shepherding little kids. They still went in, trying not to step on anyone or anything. Unfortunately, Clint had stumbled over a small boy's neon-coloured golf ball and the boy started to wail.

Natasha had to quickly lead Clint away. At first, Clint had offered to help Natasha with her 'golf stance' which she turned down with a smirk. In the end, she had beaten him by twenty points. Rather than paying for the pricey food at the mini-putt place, they walked down the street to a McDonald's.

They shared a fries and a drink, and Clint bought a hamburger as well. He had offered Natasha a bite of it and she refused. So he decided to catch her off-guard and stuffed a bite into her mouth. She reluctantly swallowed with ketchup and mustard dripping down her chin and onto her neck. She had retaliated by throwing an ice cube from the coke to him which landed down his shirt.

After that, it had gotten dark, so he offered to walk her home. She knew he could call his mom to pick them up, but he didn't seem for it. So they headed back to her neighbourhood, which was at least a half-an-hour walk, and Clint was greeted by a giant Rottweiler. Once they reached her house, they had stood there for a minute, unsure of what to say. Clint had begun to lean in closer to her, and she inched towards him as well. At the last minute, when their lips were just inches apart, she leaned away. Instead, they had shook hands awkwardly, and she sensed his disappointment.

Natasha didn't regret not kissing him, contrary to what many girls would be eager to do. True, she had kissed many guys before, but unlike most of the school thought, she'd only had one real boyfriend. That was with Alexi. It was a short, lasting only a few months during their freshman year. By summer, their relationship had fizzled out, and they had managed to stay friends.

Her phone rang, a pop tune ringing out. Clint must have changed the ringtone.

"Hello?" Natasha answered.

"Hi, Natasha." It was Pepper. "What's up?"

"I just got home. From a date," she added.

"With who? What? Why didn't you tell me?"

Natasha filled Pepper in on the date, leaving out the part about the almost-kiss. Despite that, she was asked about a kiss anyway.

"We didn't," Natasha replied bluntly.

Pepper sighed. "Well, it was only the first date, I guess." A beat of silence. "Oh, did you get that e-mail that Tony sent out?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "God, their whole plan, prank, or whatever, is so pointless. Tony and the guys just want to get arrested. They let me in on the Prank Committee meeting today, and I- I just-" Pepper trailed off, flustered.

Natasha chuckled. She, of course, wanted no part of those pranks though she knew Clint was part of them. He'd tried to talk her into joining their meeting that afternoon before their date. She pretended she couldn't hear him. Though, he'd told her of Loki's initial plans, and she thought them quite clever. Still, she didn't want to be in the same room with Tony Stark for more than five minutes.

"I got to go, Nat," Pepper said, loud music starting to play in the background. "My brother's having a party tonight; our parents are on vacation. I'll see you tomorrow."

Natasha bid her good night and hung up. She flung herself onto her bed, continuing to scroll through her phone. Seeing the final picture in her images, she smiled. Clint had managed to get a photo of them together, though she didn't remember it being taken. The sun had begun to set on their way to McDonald's and Clint had casually wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Natasha was smiling at something he had said.

She had to admit; they looked pretty cute together.

.

**A/N: Sorry for the waits between chapters! Also, thanks for the alerts and reviews; I appreciate it a lot. **


	10. Chapter 9

What Bruce saw as he got into school was certainly one of the most unexpected of things he ever thought he'd see in Marvel High. The first thing he thought was how would someone have patience to do this? Secondly, he realized that his friends had gone on and done a prank without him.

At least a thousand colourful helium balloons filled the front foyer and main office. The custodians had appeared to be finding a way to get rid of the balloons without making such a racket by popping them. Ms. Hill had a deadpan expression on her face, swatting away balloons as they floated around her. The principal was unable to be seen from outside the office though Bruce could hear him muttering ominously.

Bruce was certain that this prank was not what they had planned the week before, though he knew this to certainly be Tony's work. Who else would have the money to spare and the guts to do it? Bruce was still irked that he wasn't told of the plan –albeit a stupid plan– so he set off to find Tony.

He realized that Tony didn't use a locker and would most likely be late to school anyway. Instead, he turned down the second-floor hall he knew Thor's and Clint's lockers were. There was a commotion in the middle of the hallway, a large group of students crowding around something. That something turned out to be a cow.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself. Then he saw Tony at the other end of the hall, snickering with Clint.

"Brucie, my boy!" Tony said as he saw him edge around the group of students. "How do you like this?" He pointed to the cow.

"I think it's stupid."

Tony snorted. "Way to be a Debbie Downer. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"First, you put those balloons in the office, and now you have a cow stuck on the second floor. You know damn well that cows can't walk down stairs." Bruce looked around as a frazzled teacher was attempting to call the elevator. "You disabled the elevator, didn't you?" he stated rather than asked.

"Very observational of you." Tony patted Bruce on the shoulder.

Bruce removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Okay," he sighed. "I get it now. You actually had no intention of going along with Loki's plan from the start. Why didn't you just say so?"

Just then the principal strode down the hall, his presence parting the crowd immediately. He had the vice principal in tow and was glaring at everyone with his single eye.

"Get to class everyone," Principal Fury said loudly. As everyone departed, he pointed to the trio of boys. He stared at them resolutely. "Were you two a part of this?" he asked Clint and Bruce, as if he was already positive that Tony was a suspect.

"They weren't," Tony spoke up unexpectedly.

Clint nudged him slightly. "I wasn't?"

"No, neither of them was. It was all me."

The principal studied Tony. "Another detention this afternoon. And you have to help us get this beef out of here and get rid of the balloons in my office. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah. I expected as much."

Principal Fury turned to the other two. "You guys head to class now. Tony, down at the front foyer at three."

As the cow was shuffled off to an empty classroom the three boys headed down the stairs to their classes. Tony fiddled with his phone, turning the screen on and off again.

"Hey." Clint nudged him. "Thanks for that back there."

"Why'd you do that?" Bruce asked.

Tony shrugged. "If we're all stuck in detention, we wouldn't be able to plan our next prank, would we?"

"Will I be part of it this time?"

"'Course. I just didn't think you'd like this fun little prank as much as Loki's."

"Speaking about Loki, where is he?"

They turned the corner, stopping as they'd have to separate. Music had come on from the speakers, warning the students that they had a minute to get to class.

"Wasn't feeling well, according to Thor," Clint told him. "Well I should get going. I don't want to get another detention."

"Adios, amigo." Tony waved him off. Together, he and Bruce headed to science, Bruce rushing ahead, not wanting to be late. "Dude, slow down," Tony called after him. "Mr. Selvig doesn't give a shit if we're five minutes late, much less five seconds."

They made it through the door just as the bell rang, Tony slowly striding in while Bruce hurried to his seat. Surprising himself, the first thing Bruce noticed was that Loki was in his usual seat at the back of the room. Secondly, he realized that Tony chose to sit next to Loki, rather than himself. Not that he minded at all, but it was the last thing Bruce expected.

As he sat, Tony gave a wide toothy smile to Loki, who pointedly ignored him, swiping his own binders into his bag and moving to the seat next to Bruce.

"Uh...hi," Bruce said as Loki's notebooks fell onto the desk.

Loki grunted in response, paying no attention to the eyes that were watching him with amusedly. The boy he left was slightly red in the face, but had his feet up on the vacant chair, winking at the students who were snickering at him.

"Settle down, everyone." Mr. Selvig clapped his hands to get the attention of the class.

He began to tell the class of the lesson for the day, turning to the chalkboard. Tony made it his priority to get the attention of Loki during that time. Several balls of paper and a few pieces of chalk littered the ground around Loki and Bruce's desks, yet neither of them acknowledged Tony. The boy gave up after a while, putting his head down on his desk.

After more talking that Tony ignored, Mr. Selvig finally said, "Now find a group of three or four. Each of you has to get a test tube and your ingredients. No explosions today." He looked right at Tony when he said the last sentence.

With the scraping of metal chair legs against the floor, the students met up with their friends. Tony made a beeline for Loki who was unusually quick on finding a group. Still, he went up to the group, grabbed Loki by the bicep and dragged him to an empty table.

"Unhand me, Stark," Loki snapped, wrenching his arm away.

"I just want to talk to you."

Loki was silent, which Tony took as an 'I'm listening'.

"We did the prank today only because you weren't here yesterday or the day before." Tony wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain himself. He wasn't that type, nor was he one to apologize. "Look," he continued as Loki didn't respond. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why would you want to do that?" Loki asked vehemently. "I didn't think anyone would give a damn about me." Then, as if he had said too much, he turned away, his hair shielding his face from Tony.

"Alright, Mr. Grumpy, what's wrong?"

Loki scowled. "It's nothing. I'll be off now." With that, he stalked back to his group leaving Tony curious and alone.

Of course, Tony would find him after school and bug him about it more. He needed his prankster back on the team.

AAAAAAA

He barreled down the field, chasing the player clutching the football. The rest of the team had yet to get used to the co-captain and his ferocity. With a leap, Thor tackled the player, the ball rolling out of his hands.

"Damn it, Odinson," Fandral moaned, pushing Thor off of him. "You almost broke my face."

"Sorry, my friend." Thor helped him up.

From the other side of the field, the captain of the Marvel High football team shouted for the players to gather at the sidelines. Steve was an imposing figure at six feet tall, with broad shoulders and biceps the size of his neck. Though Thor matched his size, if not larger, Steve was a much better leader. He could get a rowdy group of teenage boys to listen to him with just a shout, as effectively as their coach with a bullhorn.

"Great practice today, guys," Steve said as they grouped. "Volstagg." He pointed to a linebacker, a guy with red hair and a beard of the same colour. "You've got to be lighter on your feet. Thor, can I speak to you for a moment?"

The coach then dismissed everyone else, leaving Steve and Thor to pack up the equipment. Thor glanced up at the bleachers where Jane and her friend were seated, working on homework. Jane waved at him enthusiastically, but Thor found the energy for only a tight smile in return.

"You seemed a little off at practice today," Steve said, picking up the pylons they used for warm-up. "Is everything all right?"

Thor helped to gather the orange cones. "I'm fine, captain. I am just tired. I had much homework to do last night."

The captain looked unconvinced. "I know Loki does your homework."

At his brother's name, Thor flinched slightly.

"This has something to do with him, doesn't it?" Steve stood in front of Thor with his arms crossed. The co-captain didn't make eye-contact. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Steve said. "Just make sure it doesn't interfere with your performance at the game this Friday."

Up on the bleachers, Jane quickly packed her bag, telling her friend to wait for her. The brunette hurried down to the field where Thor was.

"You looked especially like a lion today with your hair blowing around you," she told him amusedly.

"Is that a compliment?" Steve asked.

Jane shrugged. "Well, a lion's mane protects it when it fights. So I guess I'm calling you strong."

Thor mustered another smile, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Steve and I must put these things away." He held up the bag of footballs. "I'll see you later, Jane?"

"Call me tonight," she said, giving him another kiss before she headed back to her friend.

The two boys picked up the equipment to return to the gym. Crossing the almost-empty parking lot, Steve looked over his shoulder to the sound of seagulls squawking. There, at the other end of the lot, stood two people. They were in the shadow of the tree, though Steve could tell by their body-language, that they were having an argument. Then one of the people stormed away, leaving the other to lean against the tree.

The figure, who stormed away, as Steve could see as they were out of the shadows, was Loki. He had a scowl on his face and his pale fists balled up tightly.

"Loki," Thor called, seeing his brother. But Loki only glanced at Thor, stalking away without a word. Thor glanced down dejectedly, lugging the bag of footballs behind him.

Steve knew Loki to be quite the antisocial wallflower at school. He had never talked to him despite them having been in the same school for four years. He'd only heard what some people thought about him, though not much had been said.

At Steve's concerned glance, Thor replied, "My br- Loki hasn't been feeling well." He paused, looking at Steve. "Can I tell you something? Though, this must remain a secret. I do not think Loki would want anyone knowing, but I must get it off my chest."

"You can trust me, Thor."

Thor took a deep breath. "My brother is adopted."

"Oh," was Steve's response.

"Yes." Thor nodded. "He found out a few days ago. I had only been told then as well. He hadn't taken the news well."

Steve patted his friend on the back sympathetically. "It'll take time."

"I know, my friend. I know."

AAAAAAA

Natasha pulled up by the curb on her motorcycle, cutting the engine. She pulled off her helmet, shaking her red hair loose. Looking up at the Victorian-style estate, decorated on the outside with two big willow trees and an assortment of flowers, Natasha sighed. Parked on the wide driveway were a dark blue Rolls Royce and a shiny, silver Mercedes-Benz. Both combined had to cost more than her house.

She stepped onto the sidewalk, careful not to tread on the manicured green lawn. Along the street were houses similar to the one she was about to enter, the properties clean and pristine. It put –in sharp contrast –how poor her own neighbourhood was.

Natasha's fist hovered over the door, opting to ring the doorbell instead. A few seconds later, a tall blonde woman answered the door.

"Hello," the woman said with a red-lipped smile.

"Hi," she said. "I'm looking for Yelena. I'm supposed to help her with her ballet today."

"Oh, you must be Natasha." The woman ushered her in. She glanced out and Natasha's paint-chipped motorcycle. "Yelena's told me about you," she said in a tone Natasha thought was disdainful.

Footsteps came from upstairs. Yelena appeared with her long hair already tied in a bun and had her ballet shoes around her shoulder. She gave a quick smile to Natasha, waving her mother off.

Yelena and Natasha weren't quite close enough to call each other friends, nor were either of them planning on becoming closer. Being with each other just for ballet was enough for Natasha. Their last 'tutoring session' was at a local ballet studio which they had borrowed for a couple of hours. This time the studio was being used, so they had no choice but to use the room Yelena had.

"It's a nice house you have," Natasha said as they headed up the stairs.

"Thank you."

On the second landing, they turned right until they reached the end of the hall. Yelena opened the gold knob, the door swinging open to reveal a large room decorated as a ballet studio. It had a mirror lining one wall, a barre along it as well. Another wall had shelves with various medals and trophies, all gold and silver. There was a skylight in the middle of the ceiling, sunlight flooding in, warming the room.

"You can put your things here." Yelena pointed to a spot by the windows.

Natasha pulled off her bag and got her ballet shoes out. She was already dressed in thin tights and a loose-fitting sweater-shirt, clothes comfy enough to practice in. Tying her long curls in a messy bun, she began her stretches.

Yelena followed her lead, putting her slippers on. Adjusting her leotard, she bent over, reaching for her pointed toes.

An hour- and-a-half later, they sat together in the middle of the room with a platter of sliced apples and a couple glasses of water. Both were sweating from the practice, with their feet sore. Natasha had pushed Yelena hard, making sure her fouettés were perfect by the end of the two hours. By five o'clock, her fouettés would be able to impress picky instructor, Lana Trooper, by the next lesson.

"Well, good job," Natasha said, removing her ballet shoes. "You did really well. Lana will certainly be surprised tomorrow."

Yelena gave her a smile, her straight white teeth glinting in the sunlight. "I had a good teacher. Thanks," she said. There was a silence. "So, do you, uh, have a boyfriend?"

The question took her slightly aback, causing her to have to think before answering. Truthfully, Natasha wasn't sure if she could answer with one word. Clint wasn't quite her boyfriend, as they had only been on one date, but she couldn't say that there wasn't something going on between them.

"It's complicated," Natasha finally answered.

"What's his name?"

"Clint." She popped an apple slice into her mouth. She wasn't quite the one to talk about boys and other typical girly topics. Unsure of what else to say, she asked the first question back.

Yelena smiled again. "His name is Bucky. He lives in my neighbourhood, but he's currently at the training base."

"Oh, he joined the army?" She remembered Clint saying he had been invited to train at the base. He had told her of his wanting to enlist as soon as he finished college.

"Yes, just last year."

They finished the apples and the water, Natasha making ready to leave. She left, swinging her leg over her motorcycle and gunning the engine. Yelena waved at her from the door. Natasha could see Mrs. Belova at the window, peeking out from behind the lace curtains. She was looking straight at the bike with contempt, probably making sure that nothing gets on her grass.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled the helmet over her head. Waving to Yelena and her mother, she drove off.

.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Trigger warning for abuse and minor character death.**

.

Clint took a steady breath, his finger hovering over the trigger. With an exhale, he fired the rifle, the bullet speeding straight on course to the moving target that was barely able to be seen in the dimly lit range. Around him, the few soldiers there whistled, impressed by the young cadet. Colonel Jacques Duquesne was looking on with a smile, while the other officers were nodding with approval.

The shot had been his first, and Clint had yet to show them his skills with a bow and arrow. A man, not too much older than himself, stood nearby, having handed him the rifle. Again and again, he fired the moving targets right in the centre, only one ever hitting outside the heart. By the time he was out of bullets, he traded the gun for the bow.

It was stiffer than the one he used at cadets, but nonetheless, it was roughly the same weight. He was also handed a quiver full of arrows.

"These are pretty much new," the man said, plucking out an arrow. Clint saw the name 'Barnes' on the soldier's sleeve. "I've only seen a couple other soldiers use the bow before."

He thanked Barnes, feeling the bow in his hands. If he were to train at the base, he'd have to get used to it. Notching an arrow, he focused on the targets once again. Just as with the rifle, not a single target was missed. By the end of the session, the soldiers left, impressed, as did the officers. The colonel clapped Clint on the shoulder, almost proudly, telling him that he could return to train the next week.

Escorted out by Barnes, Clint glanced around the training facility, though not much was there to see. The walls were painted white, and there were a few potted plants at the corners of the hallways. Not until the entrance was there any natural light filtering in from a skylight.

"You're a good shot," Barnes said, walking him to the door.

"Thanks."

"How'd you become so good?"

Clint shrugged. "Practice, I guess."

"Well, keep on doing that, Barton." Barnes nodded a goodbye to him.

Clint saluted him and headed outside to the cool autumn breeze. He swung his pack to his chest and got out his phone. There was a message from Tony and one from Natasha. He opened Natasha's text first.

_Let's hang out tonight_, she'd texted.

He typed back immediately, letting her know he'd be over in half-an-hour. Then he read Tony's message, which said, _Loki's out of S.Y.P.C. Bring your girlfriend to the meeting tomorrow._

Without replying to Tony, he hurried to the bus stop to catch the bus that would take him to Natasha's neighbourhood. Once on the bus, he took a seat at the back, plugging his ear buds into his phone and turned the volume all the way up. He was annoyed with the prank ideas that Tony had been suggesting all last meeting. They were childish and so predictable, even in his opinion. He couldn't even imagine how Bruce would react if they decided to put graffiti or something that you could be charged for.

Tony had bitched about getting the cow out of the school during his detention, which took around two hours. By the end of it, he had ended up smelling like cow and rubber, and his ears had echoed with the sound of pops. The cow had to be returned to the farm that Tony had rented it from, and the popped balloons had to be thrown away, one by one. Although Clint was glad that he hadn't had to go through that ordeal, he felt a bit guilty about Tony taking all the blame, especially since he was a big part of the pranks. Thor and he should've been in detention as well.

The bus screeched to a halt at the outskirts of Natasha's neighbourhood and Clint got off. He crossed the road quickly to avoid the barking dog, and walked quickly down the street with his hood up and head down. Above him, a streetlight flickered then went out. He was a couple houses down from Natasha when his shoe caught onto something.

Just then, he was roughly shoved from behind, and stumbled, only to catch his balance on a wire fence. Wincing at the sharp wire that had come out, he shook his bleeding hand. He felt a hand grip his shoulder tightly and tried to pull him to the ground. Clint stood steady, lunging backwards and attempting to plant a fist in the person's face. He then realized that his attacker wasn't alone.

Whirling around, he found himself face to face with six guys who were taller than himself. The tallest was standing before him, hood down, and pale face leering in the moonlight. The guy had short, rusty red hair, similar to Natasha's, with blue eyes boring down at Clint.

"Where do you think you're off to, kid?" the guy said, taking a step closer to Clint. "Haven't seen you around here before."

Clint glared at him, daring him to make a move as he fingered his pocketknife in his jeans. The guy glanced walked around him, studying him. He punched Clint on the back, right where his name was sewn on his archery jacket.

"C. Barton." The redhead was situated in front of him again. "Ah, yes. I've heard that name before. The C stands for Clint, doesn't it?"

"Why do you care?" Clint shot back with a sneer.

"So she hadn't mentioned me to you."

"Who?"

The guy shook his head, clucking his tongue. "It doesn't matter, _Clint_." He said the name like it was a disease. "I don't think you'll be able to speak to her after this anyways."

All six guys lunged toward him simultaneously, brandishing their fists. Clint pulled out his pocket knife and flicked it open, swinging it around. The blade shone in the light for a moment, until his wrist was grabbed tightly by one of the attackers. He nearly managed to get out of the grip, but was punched down by another guy. His pocketknife dropped and bounced off the sidewalk and into the sewage drain.

Clint could fight, but against six bigger guys, he knew fighting back would be useless. Already pinned to the ground, he braced himself for the beating he knew was going to ensue. The redhead kicked Clint once in the stomach, winding him. Then he felt a foot press against his ankle, harder and harder until he heard a crack. Seeing red, he shouted out in pain.

"That's just a taste of what's to follow," the guy hissed, punching Clint in the nose.

Pulling back his fist again, the redhead aimed for his gut. At that moment, a loud shout emanated from one of the houses.

"Stop that! Get away from him!" A female's voice grew louder as she approached the guys.

The guy shot up straight away, releasing Clint. The others followed his lead, albeit somewhat confused. Quickly running over to Clint, she knelt by his side. It was Natasha with a fierce look on her face. She turned to the guy who had punched Clint with a look of disgust on her face.

"What was that about, Alexei?" She rose up, her eyes burning with anger. Although she was nearly a foot shorter than the guys, Natasha seemed much taller at that moment, her fiery copper hair whipping about in the sudden gust of wind.

Taking a moment to hide his ashamed composure, the guy turned to Clint. "She's all yours, Barton," he said quietly before shuffling away, pulling his hood up.

Uncertain of what to do, the other guys milled about for a moment before departing at Natasha's glare. Clint had pushed himself up into a standing position, clutching his stomach. Blood was pouring out of his nose, which was slightly crooked and swollen.

"Shit," Natasha swore, dolling out a crumpled napkin from her sweater and handing it to him. She glanced up at the sky, and saw dark clouds begin to form, muting the moon's light. "We'd better get you inside."

Staggering into the house with Natasha holding him steady, Clint immediately collapsed onto a dining room chair. Holding the blood-soaked napkin to his nose, he began to feel light-headed. His stomach ached every time he took a breath, and he knew that it was likely bruised. Natasha gave him a cloth for his nose, indifferent to the bloody napkin that she held in her hand.

She helped him shrug off his blood-stained jacket. Slowly, she pulled off his shoes as well, the movement making him wince.

"My ankle's broken," he muttered. "I think my nose is too."

Lightly brushing his nose, she sighed. "It's broken. We'll take you to the hospital soon. But for now, just take something for the pain. I'll be right back."

She hurried up the stairs, and returned with a bottle of Tylenol. She also poured him a glass of water, and got out an ice pack from the freezer. Shaking out two pills, she handed them to him, which he swallowed with a gulp of the water. Slowly, Natasha led him up the stairs to her room.

"Why not the couch?" Clint asked, a smirk forming on his tired face.

"White leather," she explained. "My uncle doesn't want to get blood, sweat, or even skin cells on it. I don't know why he even has it. He could probably sell it for-" she trailed off. "Never mind."

Natasha helped him into the room, clearing the covers of her things. He gingerly lay on the made bed, adjusting himself so that he didn't make the bedspread too dirty. He knew he was covered in dirt. She made sure to put a pillow under his head so as to keep it elevated.

Closing the door behind her, Natasha sat at the edge of her bed, careful as to not move Clint too much. "We'll have to ice your ankle for a bit," she said. She lifted his pant leg up slightly, her fingers lightly skirting the area.

"That tickles," he said, beginning to chuckle, then seeing red again as his ankle throbbed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, placing the cloth-wrapped ice pack on his ankle, ignoring his gasp at the coldness. After a moment, there was silence, and she felt something brush against her fingers.

"Thanks." Clint's voice was muffled from his blocked nose. Blackness was beginning to form around his eyes and broken nose, but he didn't seem to notice. His hand rested over hers, squeezing it lightly.

"We should go to the hospital right away. I'll call my uncle to pick us up." Natasha made to leave, removing her hand from under his.

"Wait, Tasha." He struggled to sit up, but she pushed him back down. "Seriously, just wait a minute. Who was that guy?"

She pursed her lips. "Alexei. I don't know what got into him. He's not the type to start a fight." With the swish of her hair, she left, swinging the door open. The doorknob hit her wall, and the picture hanging behind the door fell to the hardwood with a crash.

It was a photo of Alexei and Natasha with their arms around each other, taken just weeks before.

AAAAAAA

Bruce hurried down the stairs as he mom called for him. He nearly tripped on the last step, barely catching himself before ending up sprawled on the floor.

"Whoa there, honey." Mrs. Banner steadied him as he took the last step. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm going out to the supermarket. I'll be back in less than an hour."

"Could we have that loose corn tonight?" Bruce asked, adjusting his glasses.

His mom smiled. "You eat that so often. You could be that jolly green giant on the can."

"Please, mom?"

She ruffled his already-messy hair. "Alright. I'll see you soon, Bruce. Do your homework."

"Already finished," Bruce called out as his mom left. He went back to his room, locking the door, knowing that his dad would be home soon. The last thing he wanted was any trouble to start. His father, drunk and fueled with anger, made it his priority to beat Bruce purple and blue. Bruce still had scars from when his dad had taken out scissors one time and lashed out.

Subconsciously reaching to his scarred back, he jerked out of the reverie. He lay on his bed to read for a while, until he noticed how thirsty he was. Quickly, he went down to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. He frowned as the bag emptied and made a mental note to call his mom to buy milk.

He heard the lock turn in the front door, and then heard it slam open. His father was home. Bruce knew there was nowhere to go, so he stood facing the sink, praying that his dad was in a good mood. The fridge door opened, then was slammed shut so hard, that Bruce heard a few bottles smash.

"Where the _fucking hell _is the goddamn milk?" his father roared.

Bruce winced, trying to make himself as least noticeable as possible. Unfortunately, he was noticed and slowly turned to face the furious man.

"Where's your mother?"

"She went to buy groceries," Bruce replied, trying to steady his voice. He was shaking, and his palms sweating.

"How long has she been out?"

"A- about forty minutes."

His father snarled, slamming his hand on the counter. "It's seven o'clock. She should be making dinner by now."

Despite his fear, Bruce spoke up. "She'll be back soon."

"Did I ask you to talk, boy?" his dad hissed, his voice dangerously low. When he received no answer, he hit the counter again. "I asked you a question!"

"N-no."

"You pathetic excuse for a son. You quiver in fear like the coward you are." His father inched closer, his alcohol-tainted breath assaulting Bruce's senses. "You're useless, you little girl. I didn't even want you, but your mother just _had _to keep you. She loved you too much to let you go. The love she gave to you was supposed to be for me!" The last few words were shouted, making Bruce reel back. "She's mine, you ungrateful bitch."

With a growl, his father swung his fist out, contacting his son's left jaw. Bruce felt pain immediately and instinctively held his arms up in defense. His father knocked them aside and swung the other arm to his throat. Bruce clutched his neck, coughing for breath. Bent over, he was struck on the back and fell lower to the ground.

Helpless, he couldn't do anything but close his eyes as his father kicked his body. He felt a few ribs crack, heard himself scream, as if it were someone else. As he heard another voice float through the house, he opened his eyes again and saw his mom.

"Brian!" his mom screamed, attempting to pull him off of her son.

His father spun around, grabbing a hold of a knife from the dishwasher. Bruce watched from the floor, shouting at his mom to get away. She bravely stood her ground. Before she could do anything, his father swung his arm out, an insane look in his eyes. The knife cut through his mom's chest, blood spurting everywhere. His mom collapsed to the ground, her eyes catching Bruce's before the light in them went out.

Bruce heard nothing. Not even his father panting in shock at what he'd done. Not at the sirens in the distance from police cars. He didn't feel the searing pain of his ribs every time he breathed. He only saw his mother lying before him in a pool of growing blood. He only thought of how he could have leapt in front of that knife to save her.

But it was too late.

AAAAAAA

Tony looked around the conference room –it was empty. It was Saturday afternoon, the day that S.Y.P.C. was supposed to meet up. None of the members were there, save for himself. Thor had at least called him to tell him that he couldn't make it, but the others just hadn't shown up. He had no idea where Bruce was, and Clint hadn't replied to his texts.

Now there he was, standing alone in his family's home. As usual, his parents were out somewhere, Pepper wasn't going to meet him for another couple hours, and even his butler, Jarvis, was missing. He pulled out his phone, checking for messages. For once, there was no one looking for him.

Determined to go on with the pranks, Tony decided to call up a couple of other classmates who would definitely join him.

AAAAAAA

"So, your buddies all ditched you?" Peter Parker asked for the third time, after receiving no answer the first two.

Tony sighed. "Yes, they did. But now I have you two."

The other boy picked at his nails. "I'm only here 'cause you said you got beer here, bub," James 'Logan' Howlett drawled.

Tossing him a bottle, Tony huffed. "You ladies all set to hear my brilliant plans?"

Peter shrugged, cracking open a Pepsi. Logan took a swig of his beer, swinging his feet onto the glass table. They were the only classmates that Tony could tolerate, aside from his friends. He thought that they'd be perfect, as Peter had his intelligence, and Logan had his wit. Those were the two traits that Tony liked most about himself, so he supposed the two were just his type.

What he didn't account for, was the rest of their personality. Peter was shy, naïve, and couldn't stay focused for a long time. Logan had a sense of humour, but it was dry, and he lacked interest in basically everything.

"I have a mental list of pranks we could do this year," Tony said, taking a seat at the head of the table. "I was thinking of doing that string thing all over the English hallway. Or load the gym with water-filled plastic cups."

Logan snorted. "Are you still in middle school? Eighth graders could think up those plans."

"The cups one sounds like it'll take forever," Peter put in, pushing up the bridge of his thick-framed glasses.

"Okay." Tony shuffled through his list. "We could put up a banner outside the school that says that it's for sale. And the football field could use a special drawing on it." At their unimpressed looks, he added, "Or you guys could think of something."

There was silence between the three as they thought to themselves. Once or twice, Peter would open his mouth as if to suggest a prank, but then close it again without saying anything. Logan had finished most of his beer and was rubbing his sideburns in seemingly deep thought. It wasn't for another ten minutes had Tony realized that he had fallen asleep.

He threw his hands up and left the room saying, "The elevator should take you guys straight to the exit. You go have fun with Mary-Gwen or whatever, Peter. Logan, go eat a steak or something –you look like you need the energy."

Behind him, he heard Peter mumble something about bad hosts. Then Logan awoke, and Tony heard a chair crash and a particularly loud string of curses.

"People these days," Tony muttered as he called Pepper to meet him earlier. He supposed that he'd take a break from the pranks for a while. Though he enjoyed pulling them, it wasn't as much fun if he did them alone. Nodding, he told himself that S.Y.P.C. was temporarily disbanded.


	12. Chapter 11

**Part II**

The month of October brought the cool, autumn weather. Leaves blew around on trees and in the air, covering the roads and browning grass. Anyone who went outside wore a jacket, and long pants; everyone except one young man.

Steve wore only a thin white shirt and jeans as he raked, despite the cold winds that Sunday afternoon. The area around his apartment complex wasn't too large, but it was still covered by red and gold-coloured leaves, which had fallen from a few tall maple trees around it He'd initially volunteered to rake for no fee, though the elderly landlord had insisted on paying him.

Wiping his brow and surveying the yard with satisfaction, he leaned on the handle of the rake. Letting the wind blow through his sweat-matted hair, he remembered the invite he had gotten the week before. Tony Stark was having his annual Halloween party, and had invited all the juniors and seniors. Steve had never gone to one of the parties before, knowing of the chaos and trouble that ensued there the past three years.

"You missed a spot, gardener." Peggy had snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she wrinkled her nose. "You're all sweaty."

He put down the rake and grabbed his girlfriend into a tight hug. She squealed in protest as he lifted her off the ground and swung her around.

"Hello to you too, Peggy," Steve said.

"We're going to the party this Wednesday, right?" she said, more as a command than a question.

He hesitated for a moment, still wary about the happenings at Stark Tower. Though Tony had kept low on the school radar for almost a month, no big pranks having been done, everyone still knew of him as a troublemaker. Steve, having never tried anything stronger than a sip of red wine, wasn't sure he wanted to be around potentially-drunk partygoers.

"Steve?"

"Uh, of course. I mean, it's not like it's the middle of a school week or anything," he replied.

Peggy rolled her eyes but gave Steve a peck on the lips. "Well, I have to go now. I was on my way to visit my grandma. Be sure to get a costume for Halloween."

Sighing, Steve picked up the large bags of leaves and lugged them to the parking lot next to the garbage bins. Perhaps he could just wear his football jersey to the party…

AAAAAAA

Scanning the list, Natasha wasn't surprised to see her name near the top. Next to the Sugar Plum Fairy was the name Natasha Romanoff. She and Yelena were the oldest at the academy that year, and it was their first and last chance to be that character (the Snow Queen was unfortunately taken by another dancer as well). A few years before, when Natasha was nine, she had been Clara for three sequential years in a row. Yelena was always a backup for her, but always ended up dancing as an extra instead.

None of the other girls were shocked, and accepted their parts in the ballet. They'd been practicing since July, and had already knew which parts would be given to whom. Behind her, she heard Yelena growl under her breath. They might have gotten along temporarily when Natasha had been helping her, but the jealousy hadn't gone away. Ever since her boyfriend broke up with her, Yelena had been particularly short-tempered.

"Congratulations, Natasha," Yelena said, her smile tight. Brushing past the redhead, Yelena stalked back to the change rooms.

Unsure of what to say, Natasha bit her lip, and then chased after the blonde. She found her on the steps outside the building with her head in her hands, her body shaking. Hesitantly, she sat next to her without a word.

Yelena sniffed and wiped her eyes roughly. "Come to gloat?"

"No, of course not," Natasha said.

"Then what are you doing here?"

The redhead opened her mouth to reply, but realized that she wasn't quite sure herself. The delicate alliance they had forged the past month was broken in a minute. Natasha had once again outshined Yelena. There was not much she could do to change that, except drop out of the production. Though she would like one less envious ballerina, Natasha still very much wanted to perform the Nutcracker.

"I'm sorry," she replied finally.

Without looking back, Natasha hurried down the road. The bus wasn't scheduled to arrive for another twenty minutes. Not wanting to stay at the bus stop with an upset Yelena, she opted to walk home instead. The skies were still bright, and the weather was nice enough. There were enough pedestrians on the streets –Natasha wasn't too concerned about being assaulted, though.

As she turned onto a busy street, a sudden gust of wind blew so violently that it almost knocked her over. Stumbling to the side, she nearly tumbled onto the road. At the last second, someone caught her, saving her from getting hit by a speeding taxi. Straightening her coat, Natasha looked to her rescuer.

The person recognized her first. "Natasha Romanoff?"

"You grew, James," she said.

Initially, she didn't remember him with his stubble and muscular build. The last time she had seen James Barnes was three years ago at a summer camp. He'd grown substantially, at least a foot taller than her.

James shrugged. "Just a bit." He looked her over, his eyes pausing for a fraction of a second at her chest and hips. "You look more mature now as well."

The signal changed and they crossed the street. Natasha chose to ignore his last comment, instead, she said, "How've you been?"

"I graduated a couple years back," he replied. "I'm actually at the training base here now."

After the initial session, Clint had been going to the base twice or three times a week. The first few times, he'd called her after and told her all about it. Then he stopped calling, most likely because she ceased answering her phone, tired of him updating her while he did her homework.

"Oh, my b…" The word 'boyfriend' stuck in her throat. She and Clint hadn't even kissed yet. To her, it felt like an elementary school relationship more than anything. "Er, my best friend," she amended, "is training there actually."

"Does your best friend's name happen to be Clinton Barton?"

She nodded.

"He's a great shot." James grinned. "A wasp flew into the range once. He's allergic, so he took to shooting it straight through the wings."

Natasha raised her eyebrows. She never knew he was allergic to anything. Although she knew that they respected each other's privacy, she didn't think allergies were such a deep, dark secret. Unless it was allergies to red hair, they were nothing to be embarrassed about.

The two stopped at an intersection by a bus stop. "This is where we part." James gestured to the curb. "I live on the other side of town."

Sure enough, they were a few blocks outside of Natasha's neighbourhood. "Thanks for walking me, James," she said.

"No biggie." James shrugged. "Oh, and you can call me Bucky. Please."

Natasha frowned. "Yelena's really upset, by the way. I know it's not really any of my business, but she's been super emotional." She hoped that he was the same Bucky that her ballerina companion knew.

He licked his lips uncomfortably. "It's just-" Bucky hesitated. "I'm being deployed next week. It'll be for two years. In case anything happened to me…"

The bus pulled in to the stop, and on an impulse, the redhead took his hand in hers.

"Good luck, soldier," Natasha said. Then, she saluted him with a grin. Bucky hopped on the bus and gave her a small wave as it drove away.

As soon as she got home, her uncle handed her the home phone and left to the kitchen. A recorded message began.

"Hey, Tash, it's me." It was Clint. "You weren't answering your cell. I just wanted to ask if you were going to Stark's party. If you are, give me a call. So, uh, yeah. I'll see you on Monday."

With a beep, the message ended. She returned the phone to the living room and sighed. If she was going to a Halloween party, she'd need something festive to wear. She didn't particularly like wearing fancy costumes after she'd turned ten. She'd dressed up as a fairy-princess all the years before that.

"Uncle Ivan," Natasha called out.

She found him preparing an afternoon snack for both of them. He handed her a platter of raw vegetables and crackers. Retrieving the peanut butter from the cupboard, she sat at the island counter.

"Do you have anything I can wear for a Halloween party?" she asked after finishing a celery stick.

Her uncle stood on the other side of the counter. "Other than your princess costumes from many years ago, I don't think there is anything." He rubbed his beard in thought. "Actually, I might have something of your mother's. Wait one moment."

A minute later, he returned with something in a small box. She carefully pulled off the velvet-lined lid, which revealed a necklace. It was a gold chain with a small crimson and black-coloured pendant shaped as a spider.

"That's ruby." Uncle Ivan pointed to the crimson stones. "And the black ones are diamonds."

She fastened the chain around her neck, letting the pendant rest between her collarbones. It made her feel wealthy to have such an expensive piece of jewelry on her.

"Where did my mother get this from?" she asked.

Her uncle smiled. "It was a wedding gift from your father."

Touching the necklace, she could almost imagine her parents together again. Before she could let her emotions overwhelm her, she dunked another carrot into the peanut butter and stuffed it in her mouth. She pushed away the plate quickly.

"Where are you going?" Uncle Ivan called after her.

"To find something to wear on Wednesday."

AAAAAAA

"For the last time, Tony, I am _not _dressing up as a pepper shaker." Pepper rolled her eyes, adjusting her cell phone. "No, I don't care if you already have a salt shaker costume. I already have my costume, alright?"

The elevator door opened to reveal a pouting Tony Stark. "You could be one of the Spice Girls," he suggested, still talking into his phone.

"Which one would I be?" Pepper gave him a hard look, pocketing her phone.

"Scary Spice. Definitely."

Tony entered, nudging Pepper aside. He pressed another button, shutting the doors, and the elevator began to rise. With a ding, the doors opened again. This time, it was on the ninetieth floor.

Similar to the layout of a bar house, the room was large enough to fit at least a hundred people. It was decorated in a contemporary style, the walls painted black and floors were a shiny, dark hardwood. A wall of ceiling-height windows revealed the city beneath. One side of the room was a bar, finished with drinks, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. On the other side was a lounge-slash-dance floor, along with a DJ table. The ceiling was high, and a disco ball sparkled on top of the dance floor. A few pot lights lined the bar area, dimly showing the various bottles.

"Where are the Halloween decorations?" Pepper asked, scanning the room.

Tony poured himself a glass of beer. "I'm not crazy about the colour orange."

"But it's festive," his girlfriend said as she snatched the drink out of his hand and poured it down the drain. Instead, she handed him a can of soda which he made a face at.

"That was Carlsberg Vintage," Tony muttered. "And if you would like to decorate, be my guest. The party's not for another four days, so you have plenty of time to get some streamers or melons."

Pepper smirked. "_Pumpkins_, not melons. And if you'd lend me some money for _your _party decorations, I would appreciate it."

"I don't carry cash, but I have a few credit cards," he said, pulling out his wallet. He handed her a couple cards, which she took gladly. "Did I tell you what happened in science on Friday?" Without waiting for an answer, he plowed on. "Bruce fucking freaked out when someone knocked over some green paint and he slipped in it. I was next to him, so he began shouting and growling at me, and I think he would've pushed me into acid if Parker hadn't held him back. God, I thought he was actually going to hurt me."

With a frown, Pepper said, "He lost his mom last month, Tony. You should give him some spa-"

"I thought he needed some fun, so after his detention I invited him to my party." Tony chuckled. "He shoved me into a thorn bush and told me that I was 'insensitive, and lacked compassion' and that I should never speak to him again."

"You're unbelievable."

"I also asked Loki, but he said I was an 'idiotic quim'. I looked up 'quim', and it's a word I'll probably use often now. Anyway, Thor said he'd try to bring his brother along."

Sighing, Pepper shook her head in disbelief. "Can't you leave them alone? If they don't want to go to your party, don't force them."

Shrugging, Tony wrapped an arm around his girlfriend. "What's your costume going to be? I want mine to compliment yours."

"I was thinking of a Playboy bunny."

Tony perked up. "Really?"

"No. You'll see this week." With that, she kissed him.

"How about a maid?" Tony murmured against her lips.

.

**A/N: Drop a review, favourite and/or a follow please! :)**


	13. Chapter 12

"BOO!"

Indifferent, the girls got out of the elevator, one of them nudging the frightener out of the way. Peter Parker frowned, touching his face to confirm that his face paint was still on.

Logan rolled his eyes, picking his teeth with a toothpick as he lounged on a plastic chair. "It ain't gon' do any good, Pete."

Peter checked his reflection in the elevator doors, wiping away smudged paint. He'd tried to look make himself look like a spider, several eyes and all. He even had eight twisted clothes hangers stuck in a black backpack as the legs. Unfortunately, no one was impressed by his costume; even his girlfriend had laughed at it. He thought that it may have been his glasses that ruined the look.

Meanwhile, Logan had taped chopsticks on his knuckles as an attempt to be some sort of wolf. Though a chopstick had fallen off on each hand, leaving him with three each, his gelled-up hair and sideburns made him look like a werewolf.

"Why won't these damn things work?" Each word was paired with a violent rap of Peter's knuckle against his wrists.

"I really don't kn-"

"Aha!"

Logan flinched as Silly String was sprayed everywhere, including on himself. Wiping his eyes with his sleeves, he forgot about the chopsticks on his knuckles, and ended up poking himself in the eye.

"Fucking hell," Logan muttered, pressing a palm against his face.

"I didn't think spiders ate wolves." Tony Stark sauntered toward the two, a couple of drinking glasses in hand. "I think this one would be rather stringy."

"You're so damn funny."

"Lighten up, wolfy boy. It's Halloween!" Tony handed the strung-up boy a glass of whiskey. "Eat, drink, and be merry."

Peter looked up from fiddling with his Silly String cuffs. "Doesn't that have something to do with Christmas?" he pointed out.

Tony waved a dismissing hand. "You guys should come down to where the party is. There's great music, drinks, and girls dressed as slutty everythings."

Shrugging, Logan threw off the rest of the string and followed their host. Peter was determinedly standing by the elevator, waiting for a guest to scare. At that moment the hallway was empty, the music from the party the only sound.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew from down the hall, though there were no windows. Peter whirled around, holding out his wrists in defense. When he saw nothing, he slowly turned back around. The whir of the elevator rising began, ending with the ding of the opening doors.

"BOO!" Peter leapt out, spraying his Silly String.

There was no one in the elevator.

"What the-" He looked up and down the hall again. The leaves of a potted plant rustled, and Peter slowly approached it. With a jerk, he parted the greenery. Nothing. "Huh," he muttered, scratching his head. "Weird."

With a shake of his head, he quickly hurried to the party. Behind him, he heard the elevator descend creakily again, and he ran the rest of the way.

AAAAAAA

Natasha fastened on her strappy black high heels, and then straightened herself. Studying her reflection in the front foyer mirror, she decided that she could fix no more and grabbed her small black purse. Making sure that her beaded shift dress covered what it should, she stepped out into the cool night.

Clint wolf- whistled as he leapt down from the roof. He flicked the feather on her headband. "You're quite the bee's knees, Tasha."

"What were you doing up there?"

"Shooting leaves on trees." He showed her his empty quiver and the bow slung around him. "I'm Robin Hood, so I presumed that he should have a bow and arrow at all times." Clint looked her up and down. "Looking dapper, Zelda."

"Fitzgerald or the video game princess?"

"The flapper, of course."

Natasha took in his costume. He was wearing a loose tunic which looked as if it were just painted green, a pair of grey jeans, and brown, pointed loafers. On his head was a green cap with a red feather on the side.

"Without the bow, you'd look like Peter Pan," she said. "Is your mom giving us a ride this time?"

The Robin Hood look-alike grinned. "I was hoping I could ride your motorcycle. I took a bus here, and unless you want to take public transit…"

Shaking her head, Natasha went back inside the house. She returned with a helmet which she tossed to Clint, and a leather jacket. Right before he mounted the motorcycle, Natasha held him back.

"I'm driving." The flapper shrugged her jacket on and carefully placed her helmet over her hair. Revving the motor, she looked expectantly to Clint.

Grudgingly, Clint sat behind Natasha and put his arms securely around her waist. They took off down the street, the growl of the motorcycle announcing their presence throughout the neighbourhood.

With the cool wind blowing, the Robin Hood kept shivering in his thin shirt. Wrapping his arms tighter around the flapper's warm body, he put his chin on her shoulder, inhaling her sweet perfume. He wondered to himself why most girls always smelled so good when they jerked to a sudden halt.

"It's your red light, dumbasses!" Natasha shouted to three teenage boys who were slowly making their way across the darkened street.

One of the boys responded with his middle fingers. The others began to laugh when they saw Clint behind her.

"What's a fairy doing behind you?" another boy responded.

Clint scowled, but before he could retort, Natasha sped away, narrowly missing the boys. After a moment, she glanced at him. "You look more like Peter Pan, honestly."

Finally, they arrived at Stark Tower. Parking the motorcycle in the lot, they made their way up the first elevator. At the second elevator that would take them to the Starks' living quarters, there was a man dressed in a black suit and tie. The man had graying hair and had this air of formality around him.

"Names?" He had a posh British accent.

"Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff." Natasha stood up straighter, as if the man's primness was affecting her.

The man nodded and used a keycard to call the elevator. "Have a good evening."

Several floors later, the doors opened to reveal a dimly-lit hallway. They could hear the bass pounding from down the hall where the party was. But before they got out of the elevator, it closed again. Clint jabbed the 'open' button, but the doors stayed firmly shut. They began to rise again, much to the couple's confusion. The elevator didn't stop until it reached the top floor. Instead of opening as it was supposed to, the elevator remained closed.

"What the hell?" Natasha murmured, incessantly pressing the 'open' button.

Clint pushed the alarm button, hoping to call for attention. Curiously, there was no sound. "Okay, this is fucking weird."

Then, a creaking sound issued from around them. Clint pulled her closer, somewhat freaked out. Natasha seized his hand, which was sweaty from nervousness.

"Let's call Tony," Natasha suggested. She dialed his number, but he didn't pick up. After three more calls, there was no answer. Frowning, she texted him, 'Clint and I stuck in your elevator. Help ASAP.'

Suddenly, Clint doubled over, clutching his ears with his face contorted in pain. He grabbed a hold of the handrail as he slid down to the ground.

Alarmed, Natasha crouched down beside him and grasped his shoulders. "Clint," she cried. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, continuing to press his palms against the side of his head. With his jaw clenched and sweat forming on his hairline, he stayed in that position for another minute until, finally, he sighed in relief.

"What the hell was that?" Natasha put her arms around him. "You scared me."

"That never happened before. I don't what that was."

"What never happened before?"

Clint rested his forehead against his knees. "I don't think I've told anyone this before, because it's not really a big deal. But seeing what just happened, I guess I should explain something. Before my birthparents died when I was four, my dad used to drink. A lot. More than once he'd go on a rampage, screaming and throwing things around at home.

"One time my brother wasn't home and I didn't have the sense to hide from my dad. So he took a bottle of alcohol and… smashed it against the right side of my head. The glass shattered everywhere, and it was pretty bad. My mom was screaming, but my dad didn't stop there. He took his fist and punched the other side of my head, knocking me out cold.

"When I woke, I was in a stretcher being hauled into an ambulance. My dad had vanished, but my mom had stayed by my side the whole time. I was kept in the hospital for head trauma and was near-deaf. Eventually, they implanted little hearing devices into my ears, which are the reason that I can hear everything you can."

The redhead lightly touched his ear, noticing that there was a little peach-coloured cord leading into it.

"I can also hear things that most humans can't," Clint continued. "The person that designed the devices made them so that I could also hear the sound of a fly's wing from another room."

"Wow," Natasha whispered. Then her expression hardened. "Why didn't you tell me this before? This is actually sort of a big deal."

"It was personal. I didn't feel like telling anyone except Bobbi! You haven't exactly been telling me anything about you either."

"Who's Bobbi?"

"A girl from one of my classes. She's just a friend."

"So you told a friend, but not your girlfriend?"

There was silence as Natasha realized what she'd said. Not once in their relationship had either of them called each other boyfriend and girlfriend. They barely called themselves a couple. It was a touchy subject for Natasha. After her first breakup a couple years before, she vowed to herself to not get a boyfriend as having one, for her, was just a hindrance. Although Alexei had become a close friend, she didn't want to risk making things awkward between her and Clint.

"You know what? Whatever. It doesn't matter." Natasha shook her head exasperatedly. "You said that this never happened before?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. I have no idea where this came from. Thirteen years with the devices and they never began to screech like that before. It was weird."

The redhead frowned. It really was strange. First the elevator acts odd, apparently on its own accord, then Clint's hearing aids go spastic. Just when she thought that, all the power went out.

AAAAAAA

Bruce wasn't positive as to why he felt inclined to accept Tony's invitation to his annual Halloween party. He wasn't sure why he bothered to dress in a suit and tie. The only thing that he was certain about was that he was having no fun whatsoever.

Most of the guests gave him a wide berth, most likely because of the paint incident that had occurred the week before. The memory of attempting to scrub the paint out of his clothes after doing a detention burned in his mind. Although, the detention wasn't the same as the first one he'd been to –there had been a guidance counselor waiting to speak with him.

He supposed that they'd waited to approach him longer than he'd expected. Currently living with his older cousin and her husband, Bruce had never felt so lost. He hadn't spoken with his cousin for over five years, but she had gladly taken him in after his mom had died and his father had been put in a mental hospital.

For the first two weeks after his mom's death, Bruce hadn't slept for more than an hour each night. He'd lay awake, staring out the guest room window with dry eyes. Only the first day had he cried. There was his mother's funeral was soon after, all relatives invited, and he hadn't cried there. Instead, he'd spoke quiet, loving words to her –ones that he had kept to himself before. Then, they'd buried her in a cemetery by the Hudson River.

Bruce had travelled up every Saturday to lay flowers on her grave. One day his neighbour had been there as well. Betty and her mother were once close friends with him and his mom. Then Betty's mother had passed away from cancer, and her distressed father sent her to boarding school. She only returned during the summer and long weekends to visit Bruce. That day she was kneeling in front of Mrs. Banner's grave with her eyes closed and lips moving slightly.

Bruce knelt next to her and Betty pulled him into a tight hug. She hadn't said anything, conveying all her emotions into the embrace. Bruce was grateful to have someone by him who understood what it was like to lose an important person in their life. Unfortunately, she couldn't stay with him and left after pecking him on the cheek.

By the snack table in the middle of Tony Stark's designated party room, Bruce stood, not touching any food. He'd gotten a drink shoved in his hand by the host, yet no one else went up to him. Then out of the crowd on the dance floor, Steve Rogers appeared arm-in-arm with his girlfriend.

"How're you doing, Bruce?" Steve gave him a warm smile. Since his mom died, Bruce had been getting a lot of those from his friends.

Bruce returned the grin, hoping it didn't look as false as it felt. "I'm fine. The music's… loud." He had to nearly shout to make himself heard. "Nice costume."

Steve glanced down at his American flag t-shirt. "Thanks. I didn't really know what dress as. What are you supposed to be?"

"Just Bruce Banner. I figured he was freaky enough."

"Well, I think you look handsome," Peggy said, laying a hand on his shoulder. She was wearing a soldier's uniform, except there was a mini-skirt and the shirt was a cropped. "Come on, Steve, we have to say hello to the host."

Just then, the lights went out. The music cut off as well, leaving the room suddenly quiet. Voices stopped, and even the not-so-sober girls singing on the table went silent as well.

Even with the lights in the city, the party was left in the dark.

"What the fuck?" a voice said, the words ringing in the room. It seemed to resonate from someone who had lights draped over their body, which was the only light in the room. Bruce could see from the dim glow that it was Tony Stark. From what he could see, he assumed that Tony was dressed as a Christmas tree.

"That wasn't you, Tony?" another voice asked.

"Why would I do that?" The Christmas lights shifted. "Putting my wonderful, drunken guests in the dark isn't quite the best idea. Who knows what ruckus would be caused?" A crash and a grumble of pain sounded. "Exactly my point. That better not have been anything important."

"Sorry."

Suddenly, a low, ghostly wail echoed throughout the room, making the back of Bruce's neck prickle. He craned his neck around, but of course, he couldn't see much other than Tony's costume. Then music started up again, but instead of the pounding music that had been formerly playing, it was classical.

It was a song from the Phantom of the Opera. Bruce only recognized it because his mom had taken him to watch it when he was younger. The scene when that music was playing was where Christine rips off the Phantom's mask, exposing his deformed face.

Right then, to Bruce's left, there was a loud thump against the window. The first scream is piercing, and so are the next dozens. When he peers over the other guests' heads, what he sees is enough to make him shout in shock as well.

It was a bloody body, hung only by a rope wrapped around its neck.


	14. Chapter 13

Tony nearly peed his pants. After the body had dropped down and smeared blood on the glass, he had to catch himself before he fell onto the DJ's turntables.

Out of the hundred people who had arrived, only two of them were his close friends. He had spotted Steve and had already spoken to an unenthusiastic Bruce. Now, with the party plunged into darkness, scary music playing in the background, and guests' labored breathing, the fact that half of his friends weren't present concerned him. Being the brave one – and the host – he felt inclined to calm his guests.

Slowly, he inched his way to the window, getting as close as he dared to the body. Just then, as he touched the glass, the music cut off once again. Replacing it was a low, booming male voice.

"Kneel before me!" When no one did, the floor shook and he shouted, "KNEEL!"

With alarm, Tony heard the sound of rustling clothes and the sound of knees dropping onto the floor. Reluctantly, he got down as well, though unsure of why. There didn't seem to be one place from where the voice resonated from. It seemed to bounce from wall to wall, making it disorientating.

"Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state?" The voice seemed to get louder. "It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave being frightened. You were made to be fooled. In the end, you will always kneel for the tricksters. For the cleverest. "

"Yo," Tony called out. "Phantom of the opera – er – tower. Do you even know what you're talking about? I mean, you sound like Shakespeare, for goodness sake."

The voice was silent for a moment. "Would you like your girlfriend back?" When Tony didn't answer, the mysterious voice chuckled. "You'll have to find her. I might want to warn you that your elevator is… out of service. Seems like you will have to take the stairs. Hurry, she won't be there for long."

The lights flickered back on and the crowd began to murmur, the multitude of voices getting louder by the conversation. He caught some snippets of conversations, the words 'haunted' and 'ghost' being used the most.

He was met with silence. Then, just when he thought he couldn't get scared again, the body against the window began to flail. Tony screamed, along with everyone else. Slowly, the body was reeled up and disappeared.

"Well, hell," Tony muttered, and bolted for the unused staircase.

By the time he reached the second-topmost floor, he was winded and had a cramp in his side. Chanting words of encouragement to himself, he managed to clamber up the last flight of stairs. Shoving the door to the roof open, he tumbled onto to the gravel-covered roof.

He raised his head, groaning as the pebbles dug into his skin. It took a few seconds for Tony to register what he saw.

Sitting with her back to him on a lawn chair was Pepper, her orange hair blowing around in the wind. Facing her was a masculine, masked figure, dressed in black and red. Then, as Tony pushed himself up, the masked figure grabbed Pepper's head and pulled it towards his own. As their mouths met, Tony lurched toward them, pushing the figure away.

"Get away from my girlfriend, you son of a bitch!" he shouted, grasping Pepper's hand. After a moment, he realized that the hand felt unfamiliar. Turning to face the girl, he saw that the girl was not his girlfriend.

"Hi, Tony." Jane Foster smiled at him, adjusting her orange wig and rumpled purple dress.

"What-"

"My friend!" A familiar voice boomed from behind him. Thor pulled off his mask, revealing his grinning face. "I believe you have just fallen for a prank."

Tony felt his eye twitch. He'd run up twenty flights of stairs dressed in a warm, Christmas lights, and got a mouthful of gravel, just to find out that it was Thor and Jane making out on the roof.

"Where's Pepper?" he asked, still glaring at the couple.

"That's payback." Pepper appeared from behind the roof entrance, a grin on her face.

Tony felt as if he couldn't be any more confused. "Can you please explain to me what the hell is going on?" He scanned his girlfriend's outfit. "Why are you dressed like the thing that dropped down on my window?"

She tugged on the bloody cloak. Unbuttoning the shroud, she let it drop onto the rooftop. Underneath, she was wearing a glittery blue dress, the hem brushing the ground. Undoing her hair from the tight knot it was in, Tony noticed that it wasn't its usual orangey colour.

"Why's your hair blonde?" he asked. "I mean, I love blondes. Especially before I met you, most of the girls I hooked up with were blonde. Even now I like blondes, but you're an exception."

Pepper pursed her lips. "If you say the word 'blonde' one more time, I think I just might hurl my shoe at you or something."

"She's dressed as Cinderella," Jane interjected. She was holding Thor's hand, the couple making their way back into the building.

As soon as the door roof closed, Tony grabbed Pepper's hands. "Don't ever do something like that again. What do you mean 'payback'? I don't recall doing anything horrific to you this past week."

Pepper snorted. "Clearly, you have no regrets about it."

"What? What don't I have any regrets about? Come on, Pep. You have to give me something to work with."

For a moment, Tony thought Pepper was going to leave him on the roof. Instead, she turned back with her phone outstretched.

"Do you remember her?" On the screen was a picture of a girl with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Tall, and thin with a stunning, white smile, she looked like a typical beauty pageant queen.

"Carrie – no, that's not it. Carla…"

"It's Christine Everhart." Pepper flicked to the next picture. "Remember this moment?"

Tony studied the picture which showed him and Christine passionately making-out at a party. They were obviously very absorbed that they didn't notice the pictures being taken.

With a frown, he snatched her phone from her. At her protest, he held out a hand. When he found what he was looking for, he returned the phone to Pepper.

She looked confused, her forehead creasing. "But I got the picture from-"

"From a _fake _tabloid site." Tony had a smug expression on. "That photo was from over a year ago, before you became my girlfriend. I was also drunk, if anything."

"But he showed it to me a few days ago. He made a whole site just to do this?" Pepper was muttering to herself.

"Who?"

"Loki, of course."

AAAAAAA

"How did you not die from being hung, by the way?" Tony and Pepper hurried down the flights of stairs, Pepper having had to remove her high heels. "Or was it a dummy?"

"It was a fake hanging rope," Pepper explained, promptly stepping on a sharp edge for the third time. "Damn it."

"Here." Tony handed her his shoes, which left him in his socks.

Surprised by the sudden kindness, Pepper was flustered. "Thank you." They continued down the steps. "Uh, anyway, back to the hanging. So Loki planned it so that the rope was tied to a tether which was hidden in the cloak. The tether was strong enough to hold my weight so the rope wouldn't tighten around my neck."

Tony stopped suddenly, making Pepper crash into him. "That's fucking dangerous." He glared at his girlfriend. "And you went along with a plan that _Loki_ came up with? You could've been hurt!"

"It was my choice. No need to be so outraged." With a deadpan look, Pepper flew down the last few steps, and out to the hallway, leaving Tony frowning.

Not to his surprise, the music was pounding again, the bass making Tony's teeth chatter. Everyone was acting as if the body and the voice hadn't happened. But now, the party had taken a different turn.

Instead of his bartender mixing the drinks, another girl was there, pouring bottle after bottle of drinks Tony hadn't initially allowed being drunk. A few of the guys on the football team, including Thor, were tossing a pumpkin back and forth, and when it dropped and splattered all over the dance floor, they roared with laughter. Some of the girls, who were typically quiet at school, had gone topless, dancing on the tables.

It was chaos.

He saw his friends standing by themselves, surveying the party with distaste. Steve and Peggy were talking quietly on a couple of lounge chairs by the fireplace. Thor and his friends had found some empty drink bottles and were attempting to juggle them. Over to the side, Jane and Sif (one of Thor's friends, and ex-girlfriend) were having a heated argument, with their faces growing redder every shout. Bruce was nowhere to be found, presumably having left already. He couldn't see Clint and Natasha either –they were probably in another room making out.

Pepper, with her slinky blue dress stained with pumpkin, was trying to get the new bartender to stop making the drinks. Of course, Ororo Munroe, who was dressed as Danny Phantom, was too busy mixing up a storm to listen. Logan was passed out under the bar, his chopstick claws scattered around him. Peter Parker was hiding behind a sofa, spraying whoever sat down with his Silly String.

Then, Tony's phone buzzed.

_For the fifth fucking time, get us the hell out of this goddamned elevator, _was the text from Natasha.

Another one was from Clint, which said, _If you don't get us out soon, Natasha's gonna climb out and climb up the shaft. Hurry the fuck up and help us._

There were ten more text messages, and five calls, all from those two. Why hadn't he felt his phone vibrate before?

Quickly, he took one last look at the mess of the party, and bolted down to Jarvis. Although it was amusing to think what Clint and Natasha might have done in the elevator, the first calls were from an hour ago. They'd been waiting for an hour, and he only just found out.

There was something wrong with that.

"Jarvis."

Tony's butler smiled politely. "Hello, Mr. Stark."

"My friends have been stuck in the private elevator for over an hour. Also, a not-so-dead body dropped in to check on the party. _And_, Pepper and a certain jackass who wasn't on the guest list played a prank on me. Oh, and the party's chaos. I'm used to that, I guess, but now there's pumpkin splattered all over the dance floor and a wolf-person hybrid is passed out under the bar."

Without hesitation, Jarvis pulled out his phone. "Mr. Holder, we need your assistance with a broken elevator." He hung up and turned to Tony. "I assume that you want the intruding prankster found?"

Tony shook his head. "I'll find the asshole. I'm pretty sure I know just where he is."

AAAAAAA

With silent steps, Tony made his way into the office levels of the tower. He'd only been there a few times when his father had been away, and there were some security issues that no one else could fix. The security room was right next to the control room, locked by a keypad only the Starks, Jarvis and the security guards had access to.

Pressing his thumb to the fingerprint scanner, the door to the security room swung open. There, with his feet up on the desk and a glass in his hand, was Loki.

He had a placid, innocent expression on his face. With a sip from his drink, he set down the cup and swiveled to face Tony. He was dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, and had an expensive-looking green and gold scarf around his neck.

There was a short stare down, until Tony lunged toward the prankster. In a second, Loki was on his feet, and Tony found his face against the warm leather of the chair.

"Angry much?" Loki's smirking face only infuriated Tony even more.

"You little shit." Tony stood up. "You strung up my girlfriend, stuck two of my friends into an elevator, and made me run up over fifteen flights of stairs. Also, half of my guests think this tower's haunted now."

"I recall that your girlfriend _willingly _got 'strung up'."

"How long have you been planning this whole prank for?"

"Just a couple of days." Loki shrugged, sipping his drink again. "It was simple."

"Do tell."

Kicking the chair toward Tony, Loki gestured at him to sit. Ignoring the gesture, Tony continued to glare at the prankster, who took the seat instead.

"Well, it started off with me getting Bruce Banner to help me hack into your systems. I got him to remotely break through the security of this room."

"How'd you even get into the tower in the first place?" Without even alerting me, Tony thought to himself.

"You should hire a new, less ditzy secretary. I can be rather charming at times." Loki flashed a quick, white smile. "Anyway, I got your fingerprints from Pepper Potts, who willingly took her dad's work kit and got a fingerprint duster. Did you know that her father's an investigator?"

"I did," Tony ground out.

"Well, that's how I entered this room. Then, from there, it was just child's play. I cut all the electricity in the building temporarily, after cutting off the elevator's power and phone lines. I'm sure Pepper told you about the little trick on the roof, and her being hung. Yes, I may have given her a few hints, but she planned out that whole stunt herself.

"And my brother, of course, was willing to go along with that when I promised him I'd go on a road trip with him. A little sacrifice of time and sanity for a whole evening of making you run." Loki clapped his hands together as a conclusion. "Now, I must be off. It's nearly eleven o'clock, and I have an English test tomorrow. Good night."

Before Tony could do anything, Loki slid past him and out the door. When it finally registered in his mind, Tony chased after the prankster, but he was gone.

"Damn it," he muttered, checking all the rooms for Loki. "That –that…"

"Mr. Stark." Jarvis's voice sounded from the office-wide speakers. "Your friends have been freed from the elevators. I'm afraid the intruder has escaped."

"Yeah, I know." Then he realized that his butler couldn't hear him. "Huh, now I'm talking to myself. Great. Hell of a night this was, Tony. Now you're going insane like your old history teacher."

Continuing to grumble to himself, he realized there was a couple at the end of the hallway. From the moonlight streaming in from the window, he could see some fiery red hair and a silhouette of a cap with a feather on it. The couple was talking quietly by themselves.

Despite some morals Tony had about privacy, it was his own privacy he cared about, not much about others. He loved to know stuff that he wasn't supposed to. So instead of turning away like a decent person would, he peeked around the corner and listened in.

"-still didn't tell me why you told her."

"She would understand me."

"Why's that?"

There was a pause.

"Because her brother's deaf. I thought she'd be able to sympathize with me, and not think I'm any different than any perfectly able person."

The red hair shifted away from the feather.

"Did you think I'd reject you because of it?"

"Well-"

"Well you're wrong. You're always going to be the same person to me, no matter what you're able to and not able to do."

"You're sure?"

The red and the feather inched closer together.

"I promise."

.

**A/N: Hey y'all, sorry for the wait. I started school now so the updates aren't going to be very often. I wish I could update soon, but homework...**

**Anyways, keep those loverly reviews coming :) they are good motivation for me.**


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